


Icarus Lives

by karusarchive (cluelesskaru)



Category: Pacific Rim (2013), The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Author Explains Everything, F/M, Jaeger Pilots, The Drift (Pacific Rim), you can read if you never watched the movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2018-03-17 06:16:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3518525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cluelesskaru/pseuds/karusarchive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one could ever have predicted the kaiju were coming.<br/>But once the threat presented itself, cowering was never an option. The best minds in the world put their heads together to create the only thing that could stop monsters that big: Robots.<br/>Rangers became its pilots, teams were assembled and then we came to this:<br/>Clarke Griffin was in need of a new Co-Pilot.<br/>Bellamy Blake had just graduated.<br/>You can guess how that goes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reeveiga](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reeveiga/gifts).



> So, I just really really wanted to write a The 100 x Pacific Rim AU. And then as I wrote it, I couldn't help but actually put PacRim characters in too.  
> For anyone who never watched the movie, I explain everything in detail, don't worry.

_“We always thought alien life would come from the stars… but it came from beneath the sea._

_A fissure between two tectonic plates in the Pacific Ocean. A portal between dimensions, one we would come to know simply as The Breach._

_I was fifteen when the first Kaiju made land in San Francisco. It came through the Breach on August 11, 2013, at oh seven hundred hours. A beast as big as a skyscraper._

_By the time tanks, jets, and missiles took it down, six days and thirty-five miles later,, three cities were destroyed and tens of thousands of lives were lost._

_Some of those missiles were tactical nukes. The kaiju, which got the code name Trespasser, survived the first two. The third finally took it down, but there are places in the Bay Area where people won’t be able to live for centuries. You’ve heard of oblivion Bay? That’s how Oblivion Bay happened._

_But the monster was dead. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief._

_Then the Breach puked out another kaiju, five months later. It headed for Hong Kong, and when they nuked it they created the Exclusion Zone. The third came a little less than eight months after that. It almost destroyed Sydney before it too was nuked to cinders. Every time, tactical nukes eventually took the kaiju down, but large swathes of the world’s great Pacific cities were being destroyed and rendered uninhabitable._

_We couldn’t keep nuking them, or pretty soon the Earth was going to be destroyed while we were trying to save it. And no conventional military could handle them. They didn’t even notice tank shells. Hellfire missiles hurt them, a little, but couldn’t take them down. They were the closest thing to invincible that our world had ever seen._

_But that was where humanity started to show its best, The world came together, pooling its resources and throwing aside old rivalries for the sake of the greater good: the survival of the human race. The Jaeger Project created a way for two human beings to merge their brains into a single organic supercomputer more powerful than anything you could make out silicon. Why? Because in Germany and Australia and Japan, the best roboticists and engineers and military minds in the world were putting their heads together to create the only thing that could stop something the size of a kaiju without resorting to nukes: Robots._

_Thirty stories tall, bristling with weaponry and wired to respond to their pilot’s commands as if they were extensions of the pilot’s own brains… it was time for the kaiju to pick on something their own size._

_The Jaeger program was born._

_In a way, I was, too.”_

BECKET, Raleigh. **The Great Kaiju Invasion: Memoirs of a Pilot** , 2050.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer:** This prologue was taken out of the Prologue of the Pacific Rim Novelization, written by Alex Irvine. All rights go to him, Travis Beacham and Guillermo Del Toro. I do not own anything.  
>  I chose to post this in order to get readers that didn't read Pacific Rim a little more situated.  
> The story will truly begin from now on, get ready.


	2. Contents Under Pressure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Background:** Clarke thinks she never wants to enter a Jaeger again.  
>  Bellamy can't seem to find anyone compatible with him.  
> A third party believes they might work well together.

**Jaeger Academy, Kodiak Island - May 1st, 2018.**

 

Bellamy Blake wishes his sister was here right now.

The past six months were the hardest thing he has ever accomplished in his entire life. Feeling proud of himself is a foreign feeling.

The plan was to become a Trooper, but after making the second cut with flying colors, Bellamy decided he might as well go for the long run. Octavia could've done the same thing, but the girl always wanted to fly, so off she went.

At the Jaeger Academy, they were constantly trying to break him, screaming at him to go _harder, faster_. The kaiju wouldn't hold back, so neither should he.

So he didn't hold back. And he didn't break.

He no longer feels human, he feels like something more.

 

“We tried to grind you to dust, and failed. Now, you are the stuff of legend-like, knights of our time” Marshal Pentecost looks across the room from his podium, his serious, solemn expression with just a hint of pride. “The names of all before me shall live forever for having what it takes to _stand watch_ at the edge of our world, ready for the dragons beyond.” Anticipation weights all present in the room. "Today I stand before the epitome of our race. Today, I stand before the ones that will work to earn the entire human race its future. And today, I simply ask all of you to never forget why we fight. Congratulations, class of 2018. You made it." Marshal Pentecost steps out of his podium as all the graduates roar at him. It is the first time in six months that they allow themselves to behave like this.

It feels good to scream at the man who crushed them to make them fit. It feels good to know they are the ones to strike back. Hearts swelled with pride and fire. This isn't about avenging the ones that are gone, but about saving Earth for the ones to come.

You can't expect people to endure six months of the most excruciating training just for a noble cause. No, the human race have lost too much to have the luxury of nobility.

We could never have predicted the kaiju were coming. But once the threat presented itself, cowering was never an option.

 

* * *

 

> “Psych Analysts are responsible for pairing a potential pilot who joined without a partner with another loner based on personality tests and neurological analyses. Analysts help trainees and graduated pilots work through their fears and demons, and cope with new ones, to ensure a successful Drift each time they pilot the Jaeger.”  LIGHTCAP, Caitlin. **The Jaeger Pilot Playbook** , 2016.

 

**Los Angeles Shatterdome - May 8, 2018.**

Clarke Griffin is in need of a new co-pilot.

She's sitting at the psych analyst's office and she keeps going over and over the possible candidates in her head. Truth be told, Clarke’s been at it for the past 5 months, but there are only so many rangers without a co-pilot. Actually, at the moment there’s only one and she’s been obsessing non-stop about him. Not that she actually wants a new Co-Pilot.

“Stacker cannot force me into action!” Clarke  finally explodes, getting up from the too comfortable couch to pace the room. “I’ve given this program _my life._ I am the youngest ranger to ever graduate from one of the first classes of the Academy. I have lost my father to this cause. All I am asking in return is to stop while I am still _alive_. Or at least be floored, become a specialist, _anything else_.”

Dr. Kane clasps and unclasps his hands, eyeing Clarke march through the room. “You once told me you'd rather die in a Jaeger, than helpless in this barren world.”

Clarke glares at him, fuming. “I said that when I thought that dying in combat like my father was honorable. But I have since learned that there is no honour or glory in death, you are simply  _gone.”_

The psychiatrist just watched her pace for a moment or two, “We should talk about Finn.” Clarke stops. She stands in the middle of the room, disarmed. “Why don’t you sit back down? Abby tells me you haven’t been sleeping alright.”

Light comes back to her eyes. “She has no right to be talking about me behind my back.” Clarke grits her teeth. “I am moving to individual quarters today.”

“Are you sure that living alone is a good idea?”

Clarke finally sits, a venomous look in her eyes.  “You really want to go there?”

“Yes, Clarke. We can either talk about Finn or about your sleeping habits. Or lack of them, since I suspect they are related issues.”

“I have _no issues_.” She groans. “Honestly Marcus, you are well aware of how I have been; you have known me my entire life.”

“You really want to change the subject, then?”

“Yes, please.”

“Very well.” Dr. Kane clasps and unclasps his hands again. It’s unnerving how slowly he does it. “Your new co-pilot was chosen today, Clarke. Has anyone already told you that?”

For a moment the blonde just sits very still, her face trained to not show any emotion, “Listen, I can’t have anyone else in my head again.”

“Yes, you can. I’m sorry, Clarke, but you have to. And that’s why we have to talk about Finn, about what happened. Marshal Pentecost declined your request to be floored, you are one of our finest.” He stops, watching the blonde intently. “We need you Clarke. We all need you.”

 _We all_ as in _the entire human race_.

Behind her cool, composed demeanour, Kane knows Clarke hates him for saying that specifically. That line was her father’s, and now she’s on the verge of her control. Dr. Kane wonders if he should poke her a little more, perhaps a controlled explosion would do his favorite patient some good. But Clarke sighs, squeezes her hands together, and gets back in control of her nerves.

“I heard Scott Hansen is retiring.” Resent slips into her voice, even though Clarke knows that the younger Hansen brother was dismissed from the Jaeger Program for infringing the code of the Pan Pacific Defense Corps. The whole thing is top secret. “Will I pilot with his brother?”

“No, your future co-pilot is recently graduated, his name is Bellamy Blake.”

“A _greenie?_ You cannot be serious.”

“I wouldn’t joke about this.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

> “Marshals are responsible for all active Shatterdomes. The Marshal for the Defense Corps is the figurehead and the final word in regards to military movements, strategies, and deployment. There can only be one Marshall active at one time. Marshals are responsible for assigning Drift teams together and who goes out to face the kaiju.” LIGHTCAP, Caitlin. **The Jaeger Pilot Playbook** , 2016.

 

“The Jaeger Princess?” Bellamy asks, baffled. It’s been a week since graduation, and he can’t know for the life of him how he ended up at the Marshal’s office so quickly.

“Ranger Griffin is in need of a new co-pilot. Fightmaster Jaha’s recommended and spoke highly of you. So I had Dr. Kane,  our psych analyst, go through your evaluation, and we believe you two will be compatible.”

He understands the words coming out of the Marshal’s mouth, they just didn’t make any sense, “But doesn’t she jockeys Space Walker with that kid with the hair?”

The ever serene Marshal, seemed to be starting to grow impatient, “Ranger Collins was killed in action during a drop five months ago.”

Five months. That was right after the Blakes entered the Academy and lost contact with the outside world. The fact that Bellamy wasn’t aware of the loss of a fellow PPDC member didn’t go unnoticed by the Marshal.

“He was the one that got bitten out of his Conn-Pod?” Marshal Pentecost bittersweetly sees the exact moment realization downs on Ranger Blake. “That was around the time of my mechanics exams, my sister wouldn’t shut up about it, but I don’t even remember…” He notices the Marshal staring sternly at him, and proceeds to shut up his own babbling mouth.

Bellamy’s face is coloured red, and when the Marshal speaks again, he doesn’t know what it is about the man that makes him feel like he’s six years old all over again.

“Report at the combat room tomorrow at oh six hundred hours for compatibility try out. You are dismissed for the rest of the day."

“Sir.” Bellamy salutes and then quickly exits the office.

 

His head is a mess of skeptical thoughts as he heads back to his quarters. Bellamy’s mood is not completely ruined though, he still can’t believe both he and Octavia managed to be assigned to the Los Angeles Shatterdome without even having to try.

Just as he is rounding the corner to his new quarters, to maybe unpack his bag? Take a _nap?_ Bellamy hadn’t had any free time for the last six months, now he no longer knows what to do with it. But  a female voice gets Bellamy out of his thoughts before he can make his mind, “Cadet Blake?”

He turns his face, shocked to be called _cadet_ again, to face Clarke Griffin. He doesn’t take a heartbeat to answer, “As I live and breathe!” He smirks. “What do I owe the honour to meet the Jaeger Princess?” He curtsies, the grin never leaving his face. There’s anger in _ranger_ Blake’s chest, she called him _cadet_ instead of the position he worked his ass off for six months to earn. Who the hell does she think she is?

_“Excuse me?”_

“Oh, I’m sorry, wasn’t I respectful enough, your highness?” He curtsies again, even more so.

There’s still a unapologetic smirk on Bellamy’s lips, and Clarke can’t believe what she’s seeing.

She frowns, “You **are** Bellamy Blake?”

“Since I last checked, yes.”

“I thought so.” Clarke raises her chin, looking him up and down. “You did not seem familiar.”

“Familiar? What? You know everyone in this ‘Dome?”

“Yes, I do.” He raises his eyebrows at how confidently she answers. “I thought we should meet. Marcus said you were assigned the quarters across from mine and I was hoping to find you here.”

 _Can she be any more pretentious?,_ Bellamy thinks.  _“_ _Marcus?”_ He tries not to sound too judgmental, but fails.

“Yes, Dr. Marcus Kane? I was under the impression he did your psych evaluation?”

“Of course you call him by the first name.” Bellamy rolls his eyes, exasperated. “So tell me, how come the Space Walker gentleman got eaten and its lady is still here?”

Clarke takes a step back, her face suddenly blank, “That is none of your business.”

“Sure thing, your modus operandi has nothing to do with my business.” His voice is ironic and acid-like, as Bellamy looks at something behind Clarke. “Nice chat, but I’ve got to go find my sister. I’ll catch you at the Kwoon tomorrow, princess.”

Clarke is left alone staring at Bellamy Blake’s back as he leaves.

 _That should have gone more smoothly_ , Bellamy thinks, _but odds are that the Griffin Princess is too stuck up to be compatible with me. That psych analyst must’ve gotten his data wrong._

Clarke rolls her shoulders, dissipating the tension in them. It took all of her not to scream at Blake’s. She would not let herself start this on the wrong foot. _At least we’re starting to get to know each other,_ is the thought she forces into herself, _apparently, he has a sister here._

Something takes her away from her thoughts. Footsteps.

“I see you have just met Ranger Blake!” Jasper Jordan pops up right next to Clarke’s shoulder, startling her. “What’d you think?”

“Bullshit!"

Jaspers stands in front of her and squeezes his eyes, “You thought about bullshit during you first encounter with your new co-pilot? Really Clarke? I thought we were already past such childish behavior.”

“They cannot expect me to pilot with a greenie! I thought I was going to pilot with Hercules Hansen, I even…”

“That’d be too crowded.”

She snaps her head at him, _“What?”_ Really, Clarke is way too worked up to try and understand Jasper's nonsense right now.

“I thought an experient pilot such like yourself would figure out the obvious." Clarke looks intensively aggravated at this point. "And don’t hurt my feelings boss, me and the fightmaster picked Blake for you ourselves.”*

“Focus, Jasper. What do you mean, too crowded? And why on Earth would you pick me that brute?"

Jasper ignores the second question, gesturing his hands, “It is my role as an NBO to know that, for example, Hercules Hansen is a widowed single father, who reported his own brother to the PPDC, but even so, will have Scott forever in his head. And you are a semi-orphan, with lots of survivor's guilt and a whole the shape of Finn Collins in your soul. So, like I said, too crowded.” He shrugs like his words didn’t just feel like a punch in the face to Clarke. “Plus, Blake made 51 drops/51 kills at the Jaeger simulator, pretty impressive if you ask me.” Silence follows, as Clarke thinks and Jasper stares. “Anywaaay, I originally came to let you know that Reyes is looking for you, something about Icarus Revenge, so there you have it.”

“Hm’kay, thanks, Jasper. I’ll go see her now.” Clarke nods and walks away.

Jasper notices the way she walks with her back too straight, her movements too precise.

 

 

 

 

 

 

> *: “Given the delicate process of the Drift, Neural Bridge Operators (popularly called NBOs) are required to aid Rangers in maintaining the stability of the Drift connection.” LIGHTCAP, Caitlin. **The Jaeger Pilot Playbook** , 2016.

 

* * *

 

 

> “Jumphawk pilots require both courage and protective instincts in order to adapt to the physical rigors of specialty vehicle operations and the necessity of entering drop zones to deploy Jaegers.” LIGHTCAP, Caitlin. **The Jaeger Pilot Playbook** , 2016.

 

“O!” Bellamy waves at his little sister in the mess hall. It’s too early for dinner, but the PPDC workers lounge around tables, socializing.

Octavia seems to be particularly enjoying herself, seated atop one of the tables and flirting with a trooper. When she sees her brother waving, her expression is torn between annoyed and happy.

“Bells! When did you get here?!” She runs to her brother, and hugs him as tightly as she can (she’s decided on happy). “My stars, you got even buffier since the last time I saw you!”

“That’s pilot training for you.” Bellamy is smiling, holding back the urge to ruffle Octavia’s hair in front of all these people (she wouldn’t appreciate it), he holds her at arms length, inspecting the way she looks. “How you been?”

“I went on my first mission last week! We carried Gipsy Danger into battle, they are incredible, Bells! The Becketts are so…”

He let go of her. Bellamy wasn’t expecting to be quite this angry.

“Were you safe?” He asks through his teeth. Octavia wasn’t supposed to go into action without him there to insure her safety.

“Of course I am, I’m the best flier in this sorry ‘Dome!”

He forces the pressure out of his chest, “Good.”

“How about you? You never told me why you were assigned here, didn’t you find your co-pilot at the Academy? Isn’t that mandatory? Are they flooring you?”

“Clarke Griffin.”

Octavia shoots her perfect eyebrows up, “The Space Walker pilot? What about her?”

“She’s why I got assigned here, I’m to be her co-pilot.

 _“What?”_ She pales. “Isn’t ranger Griffin a risk? She’s been floored since Collins’ death, people say they got out of sync, can she even still jockey?” Octavia doesn't take a single breath in between questions.

“We’ll be fine if our Drift is strong, that’s why we have NBO’s to help.”

“The NBs are there to **aid** on the neural bridge, they can’t help you if you get out of alignment.”

Bellamy smirks, _who’s the older sibling here?,_ he wonders. “Chances are we won’t even be compatible, ok? And then I’ll go find someone else, don’t worry, Octavia.”

She frowned. “I never worry.”

 

 

 

 

After talking to Octavia, Bellamy decided to skip dinner. He wanted to take a walk around the Los Angeles Shatterdome to try and relax, mainly because he hated being somewhere he wasn’t familiar with.

Shatterdomes usually fit up to 6 Jaegers at a time, and Bellamy knew L.A had two active ones, but three Jaeger bays were occupied. Adopting a carefree step, so no one would take notice of his being not exactly where he should be, Bellamy started looking. The Dome itself was maybe five-hundred feet high at its peak. Its ceiling was constructed to open up and out, but at the moment it was closed. From a central staging area five tracks radiated out. Four led to Jaeger bays.

The fourth led to a Scramble Alley, the ramp deploying Jaeger took to the ocean door. Outside the ocean doors, was a staging pad where Jumphawk helicopters could hook up a waiting Jaeger and fly it to its drop point.

Opposite the Scramble Alley, a mezzanine stuck out over the floor. It contained the Los Angeles LOCCENT ( **Lo** cal **C** ommand **Cent** er), the Shatterdome’s nerve center, wall-to-wall monitors, holodisplaus, and workstations: the Mission Control, responsible for the deployment of Jaegers and the communication center. Where techs and high ranks oversaw the fights and pilots whenever Jaegers sent out to attack  Kaijus emerging from the Breach.

Bellamy had come from behind the mezzanine, where were the mess hall, living quarters, lab facilities... All the stuff the PPDC needed to keep its members fed, fit, trained and ready to save the world.

He followed the first track, bay 1 had its doors wide open (which was really unusual), and engineers were coming and going, finishing the repairs in Gipsy Danger’s body after its drop nearly a week ago. Their crew was made by mostly canadians and americans, who worked in sync while joking around constantly. He watched for a moment, longingly. The bay, as usual, was tall enough to accommodate the huge mechas, framed with catwalks and platforms allowing access to any part of Gipsy Danger from any angle.

Bay 2, with its door's open too, held Romeo Blue which was being repainted dark blue and gold again, by its mixed crew of mexicans and americans, pop music blaring somewhere inside. The Mark-1 Jaeger might be not as grand as Lady Danger, but it still had a deadly air to it. Plus, the Gage twins were really badass. Bellamy heard their team was being reassigned to Lima. Bummer.

Bay 3 doors were dead shut, which was actually standard procedure, but it made Bellamy even more curious, because he could distinctly hear tinkering coming from the inside. He could be patient alright, so Ranger Blake leaned against a wall just around the corner and waited. It wasn’t too long before a group of people came around, probably after finishing their dinners, discussing animately about stabilizers. Bellamy waited for the girl to punch the code, and as the doors opened, he had to get out of his hiding so he could take a look. Inside the bay stood nearly finished a brand new, white and bronze, Mark-4 Jaeger. It had to be a Mark-4, it had no nuclear core.

Just as the doors were starting to close, someone caught his eye, “Shit.”

As the door clanged shut, Bellamy turned on his heel and started rushing away. He was considering running down left when he heard the damned doors snap open again.

“Hey, Blake” He sucked in some air, put on his signature grin and turned back around.

“Yes, princess?”

Ranger Griffin eyed him, head to toes, looking through slitted eyes, “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, “Exploring.”

“Oh, really? I thought the Marshal give you the grand tour when you arrived?”

“He did a quick one, it didn’t really feel like I saw the whole thing. For example, I didn’t even knew Bay 3 was operative. What Jaeger is that, by the way?”

Clarke snapped automatically: “That is none of your business.” It might not be his business, but saying that only spiked his curiosity.

Bellamy threw his arms up, “Chill. I figured it was a secret, but I didn’t know it was _top secret_ or something, sorry.”

Clarke softens at the unexpected apology, “It is  **my** Jaeger. The Marshal authorized to fast track a Mark-4 for me and my next co-pilot.” That would be Bellamy. No, it _could_ be Bellamy.

“Was it a birthday gift or something?” He said it as a joke,  and why he felt the urge to crack one right there is a mistery. But the blonde immediately turned her back on him, going back inside Bay 3, “See you tomorrow.” She said through her teeth before disappearing inside.

“C'mon, it was a joke!” But the doors were already shut and she most likely didn’t hear him. “Fuck that.”

 

Bellamy tossed and turned all night in his bed, barely getting any sleep.

 

* * *

 

Bellamy arrived at the mess hall at 5:30 sharp for breakfast, and the place was already packed. Each table seemed taken by a specific group. J-Tech sat together by the entrance, discussing animately. K-Science was on the other side of the room, messy men and women attacking their food. Troopers sat together, making fun of each other. The two Jaeger crews at the ‘Dome sat in tables pushed close to each other. Bellamy didn’t see Octavia anywhere, but he didn’t think he’d be comfortable with the jumphawk pilots anyway (he didn’t see Ranger Griffin either, and no, he was **not** looking for her).

Bellamy had just decided to find a spot at an empty table, when someone called.

“Hey, Blake the eldest!” A girl wearing a J-Tech jumpsuit was walking in his direction, trays of food in each hand. “Come sit with us. Plenty of space in our table.” The girl was skinny and tough looking, her ponytail gleamed under the fluorescent lights. Bellamy was positive she was not flirting with him.

“Thank you” He stared at the table she pointed at, covered in trays with bread and fruit. The breakfast here was a feast compared to the five years when he (poorly) provided for him and Octavia, or even from the rations back at the Academy.

“No problem, your sister sits with us sometimes, Jasper has a stupid crush on her," She whispers the last time, amusedly. "Octavia asked me to tell you she went inland to run some errands to the Marshal."

“Thanks.” The girl frowned at his second thankyou, like he was crazy to be grateful.

“I’m Raven Reyes, engineer, this is Kyle Wick, weapons," She points at the seemingly slightly older man at the table, who nods. "Monty Green, battle programmer," The small asian kid grins at him. "And…”

“Jasper Jordan, Neural Bridge Operator, I was the one who chose you.” The tall, skinny boy offers his hand, as Bellamy took a seat opposite him. Bellamy rose his eyebrows and didn’t take the hand, which the younger unshakably retreated. “For Clarke, Ranger Griffin, me and Dr. Kane chose you to jockey with her after Fightmaster Jaha’s recommendation.”

“Oh, so you’re the one to blame.” He held back a smirk as Jasper shifted antsy in his seat. “Well then, I can’t be the only candidate, where are the others?”

“You’re the only one. Clarke wouldn’t put up with mass trials, so we chose one and chose good.”

Too much information before breakfast. He is the only candidate? These people can't be serious. Bellamy does a double check of the Mess Hall, as if to make sure he isn't being lied to, _there has to be_ more candidates.

But he doesn't ask, and focuses on his feast of breakfast. He actually gets to have milk and cereal. After being careful not to eat too much and be sleepy during the tryout, Bellamy stood and... Bumped right into someone, spilling the little milk left in his bowl right into their dress shirt.

"Fuck!"  The unfortunate victim jumped away. "Shit, greenie, you blind or something?"

"What did you just call me?" Bellamy didn't mean to sound threatening, but it was hard to keep feeling guilty with some trooper sneering at him like that.

“Murphy” A girl threateningly calls from the Troopers table. Bellamy merely glances at the girl with green eyes and way too much black eye shadow. The sneer reluctantly leaves the guys face, but he does look like he might say something else.

“I don’t have time for this shit.” Bellamy mutters, before taking his tray from the floor and heading out.

As he leaves it his bowl at the little kitchen window, one cook smiles at him amused, “Day one and the greenie is already picking fights with the grounders?” The cook clicks his tongue, turning away.

Bellamy just leaves. He has possibly an entire day of training ahead of him, so it doesn’t matter what people call him. It doesn’t matter if the stupid slang word for Troopers around here is _grounders._ It doesn’t matter if his stupid stomach now feels wrapped on itself.

He has some fighting to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, SO  
> Anyone reading this might have noticed how insanely ambitious I’m being with this story. I’m trying to merge The 100's characters with the Pacific Rim universe, in a way that wouldn’t change canonical facts too much. Not my smartest idea, me thinks.  
> Anyway, pleeaaase let me know what you think about this first chapter, I’ve worked on it so much that I sort of hate it now. I’ll only keep at this if I have some kind of response.  
> Kudos and comments are better than ice cream.


	3. Arranged Marriage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Griffins not only mate for life, but if either partner died, then the other would continue the rest of its life alone, never to search for a new mate." FRIAR, Stephen. **A New Dictionary of Heraldry** , 1987.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** The chapter that follows contains multiple things ripped right out of the Pacific Rim novelization and then molded to my own treat, since I can’t come up with that many rules or fighting scenes on my own. I own absolutely **nothing** here. The characters and world belong respectively to Jason Rothenberg and Travis Beacham.

 

 

> “Somewhere back in the early days of Ranger training, pioneer pilot Thelonious Jaha figured that a good way to predict Drift compatibility was to see how people fought. The logic wasn’t obvious at first, but if was soon figured out. First: the more a fighting pair could anticipate each other’s moves, the more likely they were to be able to anticipate each other’s thoughts; which strengthens the neural handshake. Second: if you could beat your co-pilot easily in a fight, how could you take that person seriously as an equal? Specially when you had to share your innermost thoughts with them and trust them with your life?
> 
> There is also the matter of style and temperament (...) if they don’t match at all, the handshake would overload and ultimately fail, while trying to balance the differences,” LIGHTCAP, Caitlin. **The Jaeger Pilot Playbook** , 2016.

 

Bellamy bounced on the balls of his bare feet, waiting. He was up, ready, warmed up and the first tingle of adrenaline was already speeding his brain. Breakfast felt like ages ago. He balanced his hanbō, getting a feel of it. Last time he touched one had been hardly a week ago, but it felt like a reunion.

Ranger Blake knew his way around with a hanbō, and he wouldn’t let his anticipation take the best of him.

Five men stood across the fighting mat since before he got there, their waiting expressions making Bellamy edgy. Were they other candidates to try out with Ranger Griffin? (Maybe loner cadets from the Academy?) He was sure he didn’t recognize any of them. The Gage twins and the Beckett brothers were also lounging around, chatting among themselves. Bellamy was starting to feel like he had an audience.

Holding a paper clipboard, Clarke Griffin entered the kwoon, followed closely by Dr. Marcus Kane and Jasper Jordan, and stood near the door. Bellamy was trying really hard not to look at her, because she didn’t look like she was going to fight him, and for real: what the hell?

Jordan and Dr. Kane stood a little behind Ranger Griffin, no doubt there to see for themselves if their gamble on Bellamy Blake was going to be a disaster right from the start.

“Ranger Blake.” Came Marshal Pentecost’s somber voice, as he entered the training hall, followed by Abby Griffin and Fightmaster Jaha themselves. “Today we want to start by evaluating your fighting skills, and some troopers were kind enough to volunteer to be your training partners.” The first trooper stepped in the mat, hanbō in hand and a blank expression on his face as he assumed stance. Ranger Blake wasn't really sure if he was happy or not, that he didn't get to fight the trooper he ran into at breakfast. O _kay then,_ thought Bellamy, positioning himself. “Ready?" Bellamy and the trooper nodded. "Go.”

Number one came right at Bellamy with a series of aggressive strokes: slash, butt, slash. No finesse, no attempt on any tricks or to draw Bellamy out. What that meant to Bellamy, was that Number One didn’t respect him.

 _Okay, buddy,_ he thought.

Flicking aside the initial sally, Bellamy pivoted and tapped Number One on the back of the knee, just as he was putting his weight down, springing back up as Ranger Griffin checked a box on her clipboard.

Bellamy squared up, Number One came at him again, and Bellamy set him down again, this time with a little hook sweep inside the ankle. He hadn’t even tried to hit the kid yet.

“Two to zero,” Clarke said.

Number once came at him a little slower now, probing, trying to get a sense of how he could provoke Bellamy into a rash attack. He was learning already. Bellamy decided to take him out before he learned too much. He stepped hard ahead and to his right, but as Number One shifted his weight to anticipate a strike from that direction, Bellamy had already swapped the hanbō to his left and slipped it under Number One’s guard to poke him in the ribs.

Four was much the same as two, since Bellamy’s opponent was getting angry.

The fifth point was over before it started. Number One took a step and Bellamy saw his lunge coming a mile away. All he had to do was catch the outside of the lead foot and give it a little tug.

 _Bam_ , down went Number One for the fifth and final time.

“Five points to zero,” Clarke noted.

Bellamy had been, admittedly, watching her with the corner of his eye. She didn’t look happy about something. He shook a little tightness out of one shoulder and waited for Number Two.

Thirty seconds later, princess said, “Four points to one.” She still looked… Not exactly angry - she was too collected for that -, but more like she was _disgusted._

Number Three made Bellamy work a little harder, touching him twice because Bellamy was getting a little bored. None of the three had posed the least challenge.

“Three points to two,” Clarke said. She looked even more disgusted now.

“Hey,” he finally said, taking a couple of steps towards her. “You don’t like how I fight?”

Ranger Griffin looked at him over her clipboard, “Excuse me?”

“Every time a match ends you make this little…” Bellamy didn’t know the word, so he imitated the way her lips pursed and eyes narrowed as she counted up the scores. A bitchy grimace, if you'd ask him. “Like you’re critical of my performance.”

He was feeling a little sorry for the troopers. None of them was remotely in his league, but it wasn’t their fault. He didn’t want them to get flak from Pentecost or anyone else because they weren’t as good as he was. Not too many people were.

Ranger Griffin looked to Pentecost as if seeking for something. The Marshal nodded.

“Frankly,” Clarke said as she looked back at Bellamy, “I do have a problem with your performance. You could have taken all of them two moves earlier.”

 _Oh,_ Bellamy thought. _Interesting._ He tilted his head to the side, seeing everything through new eyes. They never intended to “evaluate his fighting skills”. Rather he was competing against the Griffin's, Pentecost’s and everyone else's idea of what Bellamy Blake ought to be. He didn't much like that.

“Two, huh? You think so?”

She held his gaze, the set of her face combative. Bellamy felt a prickle on the back of his neck, Clarke Griffin was infuriating. “I know so,” Clarke said. “Your choices are not poor, just lazy and cocky. You do just barely enough to win.”

Bellamy nodded, clenching his jaw, anger coiling in the pit of his stomach. It was fair assessment, but he couldn’t contain himself, “Why don’t you come out here already and make me work for it?”

He offered the tease and she took the bait.

Clarke snapped her head at Pentecost immediately, “May I, sir?”

Pentecost extended a hand, palm towards Clarke: _Very well, get in the ring already._ “Just remember, Rangers,” he added as Clarke took off her boots and work shirt, now only in her singlet and baggy pants. “This is not all about neural compatibility, Even though you two share EEG parameters that allow you to Drift, there’s also the matter of physical compatibility and instinctive responsiveness.”

Bellamy nodded at the Marshal as he stepped to his side of the mat. He didn’t care about any response bullshit right now, he just wanted to smack that superior sneer out of that damned blonde’s face.

“Just so you know,” he said to Ranger Griffin as she squared up to him. “I’m not going to dial down my moves for you.”

Clarke nodded, “Good. So neither will I.”

They closed and Clarke threw a first strike, a formal move to start the fight. Bellamy blocked it and came back overhand, quick to her exposed scarred shoulder. But Clarke caught the end of his hanbō and cracked Bellamy hard in the ribs under his stick arm.

“One-zero,” Clarke said.

While she was still gloating a little, Bellamy flicked a sideways swing over her dropped guard and propped her on the left shoulder before she could block. Just like that, her gloating turned into a venomous stare.

“One-one”, Bellamy said. He barely resisted the urge to wink.

Embarrassed at her lapse, Clarke glanced over at her mother. Bellamy smirked, _she still acts like a kid._ But he cut the thought off with the other part of his brain, the one still focused, which saw an opening in the glance. He twirled his hanbō, reversed his grip, and tapped her on her good shoulder, almost playfully.

“Two-one,” he said, and this time he did wink. “Concentrate, now.”

He got a glare of pure fury back. Bellamy could see her thinking: _You gave the others a chance to reset._

 _Yeah,_ he continued the dialogue in his head. _But they needed it. You shouldn’t have._

And sure enough, she turned the tables right back on him with a straight thrust into his gut. Bellamy whoofed out air and doubled over, but Clarke wasn’t done. She kicked his legs from under him and as he went down, she fell with him into a crouch. He shot up his hips, getting ready to jump up, but Clarke wind up for a blow to the face that would have broken his nose before he even blinked. But at the last moment, she held back and gave Bellamy a light, teasing, slap on the cheek.

“Clarke, more control.” Came Kane’s voice. It was like all the senior’s in the room were her acting parents.

Hovering over Bellamy, her face close to his, Clarke smiled. Well, she bared her teeth, anyway, “Two-two,” she said.

Was punching a girl in the teeth okay if that girl was Clarke Griffin?

The next point would decide the fight. Clarke got up and Bellamy hopped to his feet, fully on guard.

After that they really started to feel it happen.

Every strike of hers, he saw coming… But it still came fast enough that he could barely parry it. Every counterstrike of his, the same thing on her end. Blake outweighed her by maybe eighty pounds and had decisive edges in reach and strength, but he could hardly touch Ranger Griffin. Together they covered every inch of the mat, hanbōs snapping into each other and tearing through the spaces vacated by the opponent’s ankle or shoulder an instant before, Every fall became a rolling spring into a defensive posture, every parry became a strike, every advance met its perfect countering retreat.

It became a dance. It became a kind of union. Clarke and Bellamy were breathing in unison, finding the same rhythm in their steps and postures. They struck and parried and dodged, trying so hard to outbalance the other, but it was… not a game. It was like fighting yourself, when the other you dared to read your mind because your mind was his mind.

Or, in this case, her mind.

It was like the Drift.

And all the Playbook rationale for creating Jaeger Bushido and the kwoon trials training program suddenly made sense to Bellamy, and he saw Clarke recognize what was happening (and try and hate it just as he was trying) at the same time. The Playbook explained how cadets would do exactly what they were doing right now.

“Enough” Pentecost said, a pleasantness threatening to appear on his face, just like the one’s Kane and Jordan had.

They halted. Out of breath, sweaty, still wary and eyeing each other. The Becket brothers started clapping, plus the identically amused smiles wore by the Gage twins made Bellamy want to punch something.

After silence was again restored, Bellamy started: “But”

“We’ve seen what we need to see,” Pentecost exchanged looks with his entourage. Mrs. Griffin shook her head, but Kane and Jasper were positively glowing. “You are a match.”

“But” It was Clarke’s turn to start. But Pentecost raised his hand to interrupt her.

“You two Drifted right before our eyes!” Jordan chimed in, before the Marshal could speak. “It was beautiful!”

Bellamy and Clarke eyed each other conspicuously, they couldn’t deny the connection, the perfect sync. But they were in denial anyway.

It’s like Bellamy’s vision was closing in on him. Drifting. Scary concept of having someone inside your head, literally listening your thoughts and experiencing your memories. There are things he doesn't want to remember and doesn’t want anyone else having to.

It doesn’t sound possible.

Even though he saw people do it. Some cadets would even pair up and try, just because they wanted a co-pilot so bad. Not Bellamy Blake. He wasn’t about to let a random person step into his head. He knows what they say, your co-pilot is your partner for life, there’s no getting rid of that type of connection, not really.

And Drifting is not a concept at all, it’s true. It’s what they want him to do with Ranger Griffin. Her inside his head. He takes a deep breath. Her knowing everything.

Bellamy watches Clarke leave her own head. He knows she felt it too. She salutes their superiors, takes her things and leaves the Kwoon, barefoot, as if under a spell.

It feels final and he doesn’t know what do with himself.

“Ranger” Pentecost turns from his conversation with his minions. “You and Miss Griffin must report back here as 1400 hours to train your battle style with Fightmaster Jaha.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You are dismissed.”

He salutes, takes Clarke’s hanbō from the floor (when did she drop it?), and puts the staffs back in their place.

“Blake” Bellamy was already by the door, he turns to see Jordan smiling. “Notify Clarke about the training, will ya?”

Bellamy nods and leaves.

 

He lies back for a while in his room after a much needed shower, he is in reverie.

_You are a match._

How so? Bellamy doesn’t even know this girl.

The Drift is a leap of faith, it’s like stripping down from your everything and then giving yourself to this person, hoping for the best. And that is what matters, whether he can do it or not. The only thing scarier than that are the Kaijus itselves.

 

Bellamy knocks on the door and waits. He knows Clarke’s is going to see him through the peephole and he wonders if she’ll even open the door for him.

She does.

“Hi” Clarke whispers from inside her room, the door not opened completely. Her hair is still wet from the shower and she’s back in the blue L.A Shatterdome uniform. She just says hi like that, tucking some hair behind her ear.

“Hey…” He feels silly. “We have battle style training at 1400, they wanted me to let you know.

“Thank you.” She steps out and closes the door behind her, standing still in front of him.

Bellamy can’t stand the quiet, “Are you going to lunch?” She nods, it’s the first time he’s seen her like this, it’s unsettling.

He steps aside and then follows her down the hall.

When they enter the mess hall, there’s a shift in the air. Everyone’s most definitely talking about Rangers Blake and Griffin, the newest teamed up pilots of the Pan Pacific Defense Corps. _Which Jaeger will they jockey? Will they be any good? Does Griffin still got it?_ Even though they are not a done deal already.

They quietly grab their lunch, and as Bellamy is eyeing for his sister or some empty table to sit at, Clarke elbows him lightly, “Come.”

Bellamy followed Clarke out, through the mezzanine and into the track leading to Bay 3. This was going to be good.

Clarke balanced the tray in one hand and punched the access code to Bay 3’s doors.

“The code is 13084320.” _And he even gets to know the code?_ “I thought you should meet him.” Clarke answers Bellamy’s confused look, but he gets even more baffled for a moment, until the doors open and Clarke gestures to the giant robot before their eyes.

“Jaegers are usually referred to as she.”

“I know.” A smile takes over Clarke’s lips as she looks up. “His name is Icarus Revenge.”

Her smile is an easy one, and her whole face changes with it. She looks like a girl. Not like a soldier or someone people look up to. She simply looks like the girl she’s been denied to be.

They climb into one of the catwalks, one where from the top they can see all of Icarus Revenge without having to crane their necks.

“Beautiful view” Clarke murmurs before starting to eat, her eyes never leaving the Jaeger, and Bellamy’s eyes never leaving her.

“What happened to Space Walker?” When Clarke stops eating and looks right at him, he regrets the question immediately.

“She was restored completely, but they are still looking for her new crew.”

The space between them stretches again and what Bellamy meant to ask was only why she needed a new Jaeger at all. But when Clarke looks away and doesn’t go back to eating, he thinks he understands if only slightly.

Bellamy starts eating in silence, silenced by the newly restored weight around them, and when the engineers and technicians start getting back to their work in Bay 3, Clarke leaves without saying a word.

 

* * *

 

1400 sharp, Bellamy arrives at the Kwoon. Ranger Griffin and Fightmaster Jaha are on the other side of the mat, talking quietly.

“Blake, I see you finally decided to join us.” Jaha says as Clarke does a standing bow at the mat, before stepping into it.

Bellamy doesn’t flinch at his Fightmaster’s words, he knows he’s not late. He takes off his boot and shirt, keeping his singlet on. Clarke looks the exact same way.

“You have Jaha eating on your hand, too?” He whispers to Clarke when he stands beside her, there’s poison in him again and no empathy left.

Clarke sneers at him, but says nothing.

Blake finally recognized what it is the thing she makes him feel. Ranger Griffin makes Bellamy feel like an intruder. 

“I want you two to start with the initial tai chi chuan moves, just to get in sync.” Jaha nods for them to start.

Tai chi chuan is not a part of the standard Bushido inspired ranger training, but more often than not, Jaha had them start training with the moves, to practice control. And since the man came up with the training himself, he has the liberty to do so.

The Bushido training is much like the training that was given to samurais in the ages long lost, all about control, grace and the honor of the fight. The old senseis would marvel at the dark skinned man teaching his students so serenely.

Bellamy has a feeling they won’t be able to sync right now. He’s wrong. Two seconds in and their movements are mirrored. Ranger Blake takes a deep breath and tries to dissipate all feelings in him.

“Perfect.” Jaha speaks quietly, but loud enough to snap Blake’s attention. “Let’s get the hanbōs and start, shall we?”

"Do we have to?" Clarke stands still as Ranger Blake goes fetch the staffs. "I and Blake already sparred today."

Lazy. What she's thinking?

Jaha's stern look at Clarke almost makes Bellamy feel better, "Yes ranger, I need to assess your capacity to meld technique in order to function a battling Jaeger without any glitz."

"Yes, sir." Ranger Griffin mumbles, accepting the hanbō that Bellamy offers her with a smug smile.

"First stance."

Rangers Griffin and Blake assume the introductory battle positions. Blake holds his hanbō ahead of him, pointed directly towards Griffin's face, who opposedly holds her hanbō like a sheathed katana, both hands on the hilt.

“Tackle.”

Blake snatches his staff at Griffin's side, and she blocks it swiftly, as expected.

“Orbitate.”

They start circling each other warily, looking for an opening to strike. But there is no opening. Just when Blake considers going against her shoulder, Griffin turns. When she thinks she might be able to go to his leg, Blake’s hanbō is already there. They do this for a while, circles and circles, like a dance. Clarke thinks she might get dizzy, but by now she’s watching Bellamy’s eyes so intently that they become a fixed point, warm and angry.

“C’mon, ladies first then.”

Clarke tackles at Bellamy without much plan, just to force him to give her an opening, but he blocks it and they get back into their dance. Again the cover every inch of the mat, hanbōs snapping into each other, every attack and very parry becoming a rolling spring, a defensive posture and a then another strike.

They are already panting, hearts speeding at the same time, “We’ll stay here until we have a winner.” Jaha sits on the mat, watching them peacefully. Bellamy makes a mistake when he looks at the fightmaster confusedly, this exercise is never supposed to have a winner.

When Bellamy looks at Jaha, Ranger Griffin takes the opening and strikes him on the hip, painfully.

“One-zero.” She smiles through her hasty breathing.

There’s anger in Bellamy that he fights to control. He’s panting, drenched in sweat, heart beating so fast it feels like it might burst. Clarke raises her eyebrows: _go on, take your time to reset._

Bellamy, with his eyes never leaving Clarke’s, takes off his shirt in one quick motion, without dropping his hanbō. And then they are circling each other again, like cats waiting to attack. Ranger Blake strikes, and they fight, they hit each other with everything they have. And the hours roll by, their muscles burn, and Jaha idly watches. People came in to watch, but then got tired and left. They’ve been at it for hours already, hours that feel like days.

Clarke feels like she’s been fighting this fight since forever. A perfect dance that hurts and hurts, and that she can never let go and never give up. This is what Clarke Griffin does. She fights.

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm completely in love with the next chapters. I know this is a little slice of life but stick with me, okay?  
> 


	4. The Calm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke griffin is a competent and composed, well-mannered and experienced ranger, _really_.  
>  And Bellamy Blake _really_ is a no-nonsense, responsible young man, who believes in the PPDC and in the future of the human race.  
>  Therefore, they are **not** two grumpy kids who won't stop arguing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dedicate this chapter to Sarah ([flying_snowmen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/flying_snowmen/pseuds/flying_snowmen)) because she's so nice and fun and awesome. Y'all should go read her stuff, she's great.  
> Also, thanks to my incredible beta reader and dear friend, Rebecca ([ reeveiga](http://archiveofourown.org/users/reeveiga/pseuds/reeveiga)), go read her stuff too, she writes awesome Harry Potter fanfiction).  
> On a side note: I'm brazilian and don't have english as a first language, any mistakes you notice, please let me know.

 

 

> "...the griffin's amalgamation of lion and eagle gains in courage and boldness, and is always drawn to powerful fierce monsters. It is used to denote strength and military courage and leadership." Stefan Oliver, **Introduction to Heraldry**. David  & Charles, 2002. P. 44.

 

“Hey, kid!” Yancy and Raleigh intercepted Clarke on her way to her quarters. She just wanted to lie down for a bit; she was tired and miserable. But the Becket’s always had a way to make those two disappear.

“Where are you two coming from?”

“The bar!” They answer in unison and matching smiles. They had a Drift test that morning, and apparently, are still hungover from it: talking at the same time and all that weird stuff.

“And where were you doing at these hours?” Raleigh wraps his arm around her shoulders, extending all the vowels in his malformed question.

“Were you with the new man of your life?” Yancy completes the question, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, standing closer to her and his brother.

“Ah, let’s not talk about that, alright?” Clarke rubs her face, avoiding the couple of blue eyes watching her intently. Her muscles are sore, not even a hot shower managed to help her relax.

“Why?” Yance now has his eyebrows shot high up, worriedly. “Still upset about not getting Ranger Hansen?” She was wrong - he’s not that worried, just drunk.

“He is the best one ever.”

“D’you hear his son is breaking your record?” Raleigh ask starts.

Yance continues, “Word is he’s to pilot with his dad.”

Raleigh reeks of beer, so Clarke pushes him away, “Are you two trying to make me feel worse?”

“Of course not! C’meere!” Raleigh pushes her into another hug, this time the oldest Becket joins in. “D’you want us to, like, braid your hair or paint your toenails?”

“Why would I want that?” Clarke chuckles from the middle of the too warm hug. She is in fact feeling a little better already.

“Isn’t that what girls do to their friends?” Yancy asks, resting his chin on the top of her head. They are **so** drunk.

“Except you two dumbasses are not girls.”

“Alright. You wanna cuddle?” Clarke double checks Raleigh’s face, but he’s dead serious. “I feel like cuddling and Yance is gross.” Yancy and Clarke both laugh out loud at his straight face. “What? Cuddling only works for me when there’s a girl there!”

“Rals, both of you are gross and too drunk. C’mon, in you go.” Clarke pushes them both away towards their shared quarters.

“C’mooon, it’d be like a brother-sister cuddle!” Raleigh pouted. Clarke rolls her eyes, _he is unreal._

Yancy was still laughing as he got the door open and swaggered inside.

“I’ll tuck you in, let’s go.” Clarke pushed Raleigh into the room; he kicked off his shoes (swaying dangerously) and threw himself on the bottom bunk.

“That’s my bed.” Yancy frowned, but got himself on the top bunk without further complaint (the next morning, the older Becket doesn’t remember where he slept, and falls to the floor screaming when he rolls out of the upper bunk).

“Here.” Clarke took a pinch of water from their minibar and placed it in the nightstand. “Drink this up, ok?”

“No cuddle?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Can you at least tell us why you’re so upset?” Yance’s voice comes off muffled from the top bunk.

Clarke sighs, and seats at the edge of Raleigh’s bed, who immediately made room for her, “Pentecost really wants me to pilot with Blake.”

“I like him,” Raleigh mumbles. “He looks solid.”

Clarke half-heartedly runs her fingers through the younger Becket's hair, “What you think, Yance?”

“I think you two have perfectly matching fighting styles, I think Blake reminds me of how you were when you were just a brat following me and Rals around.” Now he hangs his head from above, looking at her upside down. “And I think that Jaha, Pentecost and Kane are really wise men that don't do things harshly. Give that boy a chance.”

Clarke rubs her eyes. If even Yancy Becket was saying that, then maybe she really ought to try. She sat there thinking until the brothers breathing steadied. She was surprised on how reluctant she was to leave; Clarke was bone tired, but the Beckets were a part of her that was good and young. Not the scarred woman she came to be.

Anyway she went to her bed and fell into blissful, dreamless sleep, for the first time in months.

 

* * *

 

> “There’s also the matter of which pilot controls the right hemisphere. More often than not, the right hemisphere pilot will be the dominant one, even with the constant need of balance. Experienced pilots can sometimes even switch sides.” LIGHTCAP, Caitlin. **The Jaeger Pilot Playbook** , 2016.

 

“I hate him.” Clarke whined. She is seating at breakfast, so early that the mess hall is nearly empty. “He is so cocky and awful.”

Meanwhile, Raven Reyes is thinking she would be cocky too if she were Bellamy Blake, “But…?” she smirks.

“I felt it at the kwoon, Rey” Clarke feels defeated and tired, even after a night of sound sleep. “It was even tighter in some ways than me and Finn are.” She winces. “Were.” A painful pause. “Because with Finn, I expected to know what he was going to do. And I had **low** expectations with Blake, and then I was trying so hard to beat him…” She rubs her eyes, fidgeting under Raven’s sharp attention. “I was completely in the present, I could _feel_ time. Reyes, I haven't felt…”

“So it’s worth it.” Raven interrupts Clarke because she knew her friend was struggling, and because there’s a little part of her that doesn’t want to hear the blonde say it.

“What is?”

“His behavior, everything.  You can overcome any unpleasantness, Clarke. You can;t miss on having that again. You don’t have to be alone all the time. It's time for you to let go too.”

“It has only been five months.” Clarke whispers. She already lost too much; she doesn't know what to do with herself.

“And five years from now Finn won't be back.” Raven’s eyes are glazing. “Five hundred years from now, none of us will be here. We don't know what's coming, but we have to make the most of what we got for as long as we can. We have to keep fighting, and _I know_ you don't want to give up.”

“I don't. I really don't. I just…” Clarke just misses Finn so much.

“I know. Me too.”

They silence as everyone else took their seats and bantered through breakfast.

 

* * *

 

Ranger Bellamy Blake was called in to Marshal Pentecost's office first thing in the morning.

“At ease, ranger.” Blake crosses his arms behind his back. “How did training go yesterday?” Pentecost was seated, hands rested on the table.

“It went smoothly, sir.” Blake concealed his confusion. He knew the Griffin girl was the apple of PPDC’s eye, but it still baffled him to see how the high ups were interested in him now, too.

“Jaha tells me you both are still having animosities.” He watched Bellamy fidget under his stare. “I want things to really go smoothly.”

“Yes, sir.”

“This is the apocalypse, ranger; we don't have time for your childish behavior.” Bellamy could feel his face burning, and it was really hard to sustain the Marshal’s glare. “Am I clear, Mr. Blake?”

“Crystal, sir.”

“Good, you are dismissed.”

Bellamy stumbled out. Since he entered the Academy he hadn't… Bellamy came face to face with Hercules Hansen by the door, and he froze as the man sidestepped him and greeted the Marshal. A little voice in Bellamy's head started screeching as he closed the door behind him. He had to have breakfast, but still he lingered around the corner, just in case.

About five minutes later, Bellamy watched ranger Hansen exit the Marshal’s office. He knew the veteran Ranger was  looking for a new co-pilot. Maybe after things didn’t work out with the Griffin Princess, he could try out to jockey with Herc. Who was walking towards him now. Bellamy straightened his back, involuntarily puffing his chest in a respectful stance.

“What's your name, Ranger?”

“Blake. Bellamy Blake.” They shake hands.

“I thought it might be you. You are piloting with the Griffin girl, correct?”

“Still not final, sir.” He gulps. “Let me say, it's an honor to meet you, sir.”

“Cut it.” Ranger Hansen waved his hand, dismissing the formality, than smiled a tight smile. “She is a real firecracker, real tough, isn't she? There was a moment in there when I thought I'd jockey with her. Too bad our EEG don’t match.” Hansen trailed off a little, as if wondering what it would be like to partner with ranger Griffin. "Did you hear my boy is breaking her record?”

“What record?”

“He'll be the youngest to ever graduate the Academy, at fifteen. Nearly a whole year younger than Ranger Clarke when she graduated.”

“Congratulations, sir.”

“Call me Herc.” Another wave of hand. “Nice meeting you, Blake.” Ranger Hansen nodded and stepped away. Bellamy was probably a little too starstruck.

Result: Ranger Blake swallowed down some breakfast and then raced to the kwoon, nearly late. Arriving there 0630 sharp, out of breath, with his stomach hurting from running right after eating. Result: Clarke was already there, flawlessly talking to Jaha, a polite smile on her infuriating alabaster face. Result: They spar so viciously that Bellamy has to take a break to take off his undershirt. And to puke. Result: It's not even 0730 yet, and Bellamy and Clarke are already screaming at the top of their lungs at one another, so much that they don't even notice Jaha slipping away. _Result:_

“RANGERS!” Pentecost is at the door of the kwoon, and Bellamy and Clarke are nearly on top of each other, both blushed from sparring and screaming. No one’s sure what they are fighting about, but there are a lot of insults being shouted. “This is **not** the behavior I expect from neither of you!” Clarke takes an involuntary step away from Bellamy, her face so red it might burst of embarrassment. “What happened to the conversation we had this morning?” Pentecost asks, looking at Ranger Blake, his voice leveled again. Suddenly, Bellamy is a 7 years old boy who broke his mom's favorite vase. “Do you have anything to say for yourself, Miss Griffin?” Clarke is a teenage girl who got caught by her dad doing something she _really_ shouldn't be doing. “You two will resume practice and then report to me individually by the end of the day.”

“Yes, sir.” They both mumble as Marshal Pentecost turns on his heel and leaves.

Clarke watches Bellamy two steps away, shirtless, sweaty, matted hair. This is unsustainable.

“Lesson learned?” Jaha asks slowly, and Clarke takes her eyes off of Blake, embarrassed (she was _not_ staring at his bare torso). “I usually don't like to involve the Marshal in petty situations, but I had a feeling that a scold from Pentecost would do you both some good.” Clarke risks another look at Blake, and their eyes meet.

Bellamy takes the two steps and offers Clarke his hand, “We have to at least be able to stand each other.”

Clarke takes his hand, self-conscious about how miserable she must look in her ponytail and drenched in sweat.

Jaha's serene expression is still there, "First stance."

After barely managing to deliver a single blow without being blocked for the rest of the morning, they go to lunch as miserable as they look; sit side by side, don't really talk, and much less share a glance. Then for the entire afternoon, Jaha has them doing a type of yoga (apparently called acroyoga).

Ranger Griffin is reluctant to let Blake carry her, but then Bellamy smirks and says:

“You're supposed to trust me, buttercup.”

The exercise involves Bellamy as base, lying on his back and carrying Clarke, as flyer, by her hips and shoulders or hands, as high as he can, while she does crazy elongations.

They have no idea how that's supposed to help them be better pilots. But when Clarke no longer winces while Bellamy holds her up, and when he doesn't drop her even once, Jaha has his arms crossed behind his back and a secretive smile.

 

* * *

 

Clarke decided to skip shower and go have a last minute appointment with the psychoanalyst before going to talk with Pentecost.

“You know this is not easy for me, Kane.” As usual, she's pacing and Kane's watching intently. She just needs to get this off of her chest. “How can I put the burden of Finn's death on someone else!? **That's the problem with the Drift** , we become each other's burden!”

Kane watches her, and Clarke paces even harder, “Is that what Ranger Collins was to you? A burden?”

Clarke stops, “I...”

He doesn’t let her talk, “Turning drift compatibility into a working bond is an act of trust and it requires serious psychological concessions from both parties. Pre-existing intimacy just makes it easier. It’s a bigger leap of faith for strangers.”

This is not helpful.

“How can I? How can I leap?”

“Once you trust yourself to Bellamy, and he trusts himself to you, you two become as one, a team. And all your baggage becomes lighter. A life shared is an easier and happier one, Clarke”

“That's self-help talk; I don't need anyone else to be happy.” She unties her hair nervously, massages her temples, and then back to pacing.

“You really needn't, but you can't pilot on your own and that's a fact. We are a united front, Clarke. How can we overcome the enemy if we can't overcome our prejudices and work together?”

Clarke stands very still.

 

* * *

 

When Ranger Griffin finale leaves Dr. Kane's practice to head towards the Marshal's office, her mother intercepts her.

“I heard about what happened this morning.”

Abby stopping her when she's already late to see the Marshal is something Clarke really doesn't need.

“Mom, I cannot talk right now.”

“People could hear you two shouting all the way to the Scramble Alley!” Abby is infuriated, and Clarke watches her mother with trained eyes. “You can't behave like this Clarke; we have to set the example!”

Clarke sighs, “I really have a meeting with the Marshal now, could you please…”

Abby ignores what her daughter just said and continues, “People look up to you, Clarke, you are not a little girl anymore.”

“When was I ever a little girl?” Clarke's cold, composed voice is like getting an ice burn. Abby glares at her, but the daughter just concedes. “If you'll excuse me.”

She just leaves. Clarke really can't deal with her mom right now, rarely ever can.

Pentecost is not amused when Ranger Griffin finally arrives. Blake hasn't been there yet either, and the Marshal is not to ever be left waiting. He's standing, and doesn't even greet her.

“You will be facing the simulator three days from now. You know that's going to be final and you know you don't want to fail.” Pentecost watched Griffin, looking for something in her face, but she just stands respectfully. “I assigned you two to shared quarters and you better deal with it, get inside Blake's head, and make it work. I don't want to hear about any more fights.”

Clarke wants to argue with Pentecost about it, she really does. But he is right. She doesn't want to fail. Right now he's not her godfather, he is her commander. She's back in the game and giving up is never going to be an option again. Truly it never was.

“Yes, sir.” Clarke nods. 

 

> “A common setback that can lead to a lack of compatibility is to judge or control memories that jump to mind during the Drifting process. The "modesty reflex" is considered "antithetical" to creating a connection: holding back your memories, weakens the bond. PPDC psychologists suggest that embarrassment is the biggest reason algorithm paired trainees cannot sync together. Trust is an implicit part in creating a strong bond between potential partners. Familiarity with a partner makes fostering trust easier where it may be more difficult between strangers. Without trust, the Neural Handshake cannot succeed.”  **Jaeger Building Reports** (from the PPDC files), 2015.

 

Bellamy didn't take the news of shared quarters as good as Clarke. It's not that he couldn't stand the girl enough to live with her (he couldn't). It was more that he was a really light sleeper and was really privy about being alone sometimes. But he managed to only clench his jaw and throw the mandatory "Yes, sir." when needed.

Twenty minutes later he stood in front of the shared quarters with bag in hand. He was grimacing real bad. Quarters were only ever shared by relatives - which they weren't -, or by couples. The universe was probably pulling a practical joke on him or something. Not that he believed all that karma or fate bullshit.

With a defeated sigh, Bellamy punched in the newly memorized pass code to open the door, and entered the quarters. Clarke wasn't there.

He dropped his bag by the door and looked around. The room was just slightly larger than his previous one. A bunk bed, two tables, two trunks, and wait for it, their very own bathroom. Now, not hitting the communal showers? That he could live with. He stepped into the room, closed the metal door behind him and turned to the bathroom... Just as Clarke Griffin stepped out of it.

She jumped at the sight of him, eyes wide, a little brush of her breath hitting his neck.

Bellamy eyes her down, a serious expression with just a hint of irony, “Is this good enough for your liking, princess?”

No hello, no nothing. Clarke's train of thought trails off: is he asking if he is good enough? If the proximity is good enough? (She's really close to his broad chest) No. He meant the room. Clarke looks around in a daze. Her shared quarters with Abby had been much nicer, a wardrobe and room enough to side by side beds instead of bunkers. She nods. “It's nice.” Her voice came out cracked and hoarse. Bellamy looks back at the untouched beds.

“Were you sleeping or something?”

Is just that she never shared quarters with Finn.

“No,” Clarke wobbles her head and goes to her trunk to organize it again, for a moment she just goes through her things, not acknowledging Blake. “Have you had dinner already?” He shakes his head, watching her fold an uniform shirt. “I'm headed for the mess hall now, want to come?”

It is his turn to nod dazely.

They leave the room and fall into step. It's a surreal moment. Bellamy watches his steps in sync with Clarke's. Is this going to be it? Will something in him forever belong to Clarke Griffin? Will he have her forever in his head?

He stops walking.

“This is bullshit.” Clarke stops walking nearly at the same time, and slowly turns to face him. They aren't in fucking sync.“They don't get to say who I'm staying with for the rest of my life. I should be able to choose.”

For an awful moment Bellamy thinks he might've hurt Clarke's feelings, and no matter how stuck up he thinks her to be, sad girls are something he can't have.

But she solely looks at him, ever composed, “Are you a Ranger?” She asks somberly.

He looks down on her, she's not offended, she's not anything. Clenching his jaw, Bellamy answers: “I am now.”

“Do you want to be one?" He stares at her, silently. “Do you want to fight?” Now Bellamy simply nods. “Me too. I’ll have your back.” He thinks. He nods again. “Let’s go have dinner.”

Bellamy still feels ridiculous as they seat by the same table to eat. Her friends are there, the J-Tech crew, and also his sister and a few friendly troopers. He avoids looking at Griffin at all, he’s scared that, if he does so, she’ll be doing the exact thing as he, like they are some sort of puppets.

Octavia keeps eyeing him, but he dismisses her questions after dinner. The world isn’t as great as his little sister thinks, but Bellamy would like to keep her innocent for some more. This time Bellamy leaves before Clarke. Reyes and Jordan are bombarding her with questions about the Jaeger they are finishing up (apparently it’s the first one they get to finish all by themselves - he’s not sure if that’s a good thing or he should be worried). It’s late when she gets on their quarters, and Bellamy is reading his favorite book on the bottom bunk. He stares right into her eyes, to see if she’ll say anything about wanting the bottom bunk. But she just takes her things and goes to the bathroom.

“Can we turn off the lights?”

Princess still goes to sleep at curfew.

“Sure, but don't expect a bonding session after lights out.”

Clarke turns off the lights, hops into bed and peers at him from the top, her hair like a silver curtain in the dark room, “I do not expect anything from you, Mr. Blake.”

For some reason, it takes forever for him to find sleep.

 

 

Bellamy startles awake and bumps his head into the top bunker.

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath. He has always been a light sleeper, so at first he doesn't know what made him sit into full attention from deep sleep, although he can feel in the quiet around him that it's so late that it's almost early. Then he hears it.

"No," It's Clarke's voice, barely audible, but completely helpless. "Please, not him..."

What should he do? Bellamy massages his forehead, his heart still racing. What should he do?

Clarke whimpers from the top bunk so helplessly that Bellamy in on his feet instantly, tall enough to hover just by the blonde's face.

"Griffin," He whispers. She's tossing in bed, her muscles clenched tight, heat output of a furnace. “C'mon, buttercup, wake up.” She doesn't stir. “Hey,” Bellamy nervously touches Clarke’s hot shoulder.

Clarke’s blue eyes snap open, lips trembling, “Blake?” For a moment she looks so terribly young and scared, and then the moment is gone and she sits. “What is wrong?”

“I think you were having a nightmare.” Bellamy stares, because he doesn’t know what else to do, and Clarke just looks back, wide eyed. “It’s okay, I get them too.” He turns around and goes back to his bed. “Call me if you need anything.”

Bellamy doesn’t know why he said that. Wouldn't he be royally pissed if she disturbed his sleep? Definitely. But sad girls are the one thing Bellamy Blake can’t have.

 

 

 

 

Morning was even weirder.

Blake woke up when his alarm went off, entered the bathroom; showered, dressed, and all the while Griffin was still asleep.

“Griffin?” He pokes the feet dangling out of the bed. “Aren't you going to have breakfast?”

“Hmmmmm?” She raises her head, tiny eyes out of focus. “Ah, good morning, Blake.” Body shaking yawn.

Clarke then sits, and starts stretching, from tip toes to arms upward, then she jumps out of the bed (Bellamy didn’t think she was the kind to jump instead of carefully climb down), grabs her uniform and enters the bathroom, hair all over the place.

Bellamy sits to tie his boots.

Then Clarke shouts: “Seriously!?” The bathroom door opens. “Did you have to get water all over the floor?”

Bellamy tilts his head to the side, “I’m a big man.”

“And you could not even hang your own towel?” She throws it at his face.

“Someone is not much of a morning person.”

“You stay right there! I'll take a quick shower and then you will clean this bathroom.”

“Wha…?” She slams the door and he hears the water running right away. “Well, might as well.” Bellamy makes his bed and then lays on top of it.

There’s a small amused smile on his lips when Ranger Griffin steps out the bathroom. He still lays there as she laces her boots and dries her hair.

“What, you are just going to sit there?”

“I’m making territory reconnaissance.”

“Oh, for Christ's sake.” She gets up to leave. “You clean up that mess, Blake!” Clarke shouts, before banging shut the door of their shared quarters with a loud clang. She rests her hands in her hips, breathing in and out steadily to dissipate the anger. Clarke Griffin is a well-mannered, balanced and professional Ranger, she is in no…

“Things going that good already?”

Clarke jumps, startled, hand shot to the heart. She turns to find a very amused Raleigh Becket, hands in his belt and his ever present sly smile. Duffel bag thrown over his shoulder.

“Are you leaving??” There goes her cool again. “But you can’t! Who is going to stand watch?”

“You will, plus Romeo Blue will still be around.” His smile is full now, comforting. The brother she never had. “We watched over your ass too much already. We’re being assigned back to the ice box, had much more of the Cali heat than I can take.”

“But our _first_ simulator is in two days. We are not ready to pilot and…” She needs the Beckets around.

“Nah, you can do it, kid. Plus, k-science is saying that there won’t be another attack for at least 6 months.”

“K-Science cannot predict the future.” Clarke mutters.

“And our uncle wants us to be with Jaz for a bit.”

Clarke sighs, defeated, “Are you leaving right now?” She’s sad, for real sad. She didn’t think she could still feel such an ordinary feeling as _missing_ a friend that you know is alive and well.

“Yance is still packing; we leave by the end of the day.”

She nods, “Have breakfast with me?”

“Sure.”

 

* * *

 

“I'll leave you two to train on your own this afternoon, and also all day tomorrow.” Clarke and Bellamy are huffing, having just sparred viciously all morning, and for half the afternoon, no acroyoga, tai chi chuan, or anything less than brutal. Their fights have gotten even more ridiculous. Their hanbōs barely find any opens; they spar fast and graciously, finding the same rhythm and speed. “And when I mean train, I mean actual training." Jaha nods, hands behind his back, calm smile on his lips, before leaving without saying anything else.

“He's so zen, it's annoying.” Bellamy rolls his eyes and then hears a weird melodious sound. "What was that?" He looks at Clarke, and furrows his eyebrows; her hands are covering her mouth, sparkling eyes and shaking shoulders. Was she _laughing?_ “Are you laughing?” Bellamy Blake is shocked, but still a smile spreads across his face.

An actual laugh, fully formed, sonorous and bright leaves Clarke, and she takes her hands off her mouth, so Bellamy sees her blazing smile, a cute gap between her front teeth, “Don't you just want to punch Jaha in the face sometimes!?”

He raises his eyebrows, irony in his voice, "Sometimes?"

Clarke laughs even louder, and this time, Bellamy laughs too.

“Come sit here with me like this.” When Clarke finally subdues her laughter, she sits on the floor in a lotus position, and gestures for Bellamy to follow. He does as asked, feeling like a hot air balloon, and once he sits in front of her, she scoots closer, a lot closer.

“What are you doing?” Their noses are millimeters away, her eyes locked on his.

“Standing as close to you as possible without touching. It is a trust exercise.”

Bellamy looks away, uncomfortable with the proximity, “Breathing your carbon dioxide is supposed to make me trust you?”

“Focus, Bellamy.”

He doesn’t laugh then, not when Clarke just called him by the first name for the first time. He squares his shoulders and focus, looking back into her eyes. Clarke’s blue gaze bore into his intently, as if she’s trying to see all of him through that stare. It’s chilling. Bellamy forces his mind to stop wandering, to enter a meditation state. Their breaths sync and his head is full of Clarke. Even without tearing their gaze, he becomes hyper aware of every inch of the person right in front of him. Starting with Clarke’s smell (like the Surinam cherries his mother loved), and to where her hair hangs in her back, to every single eyelash, and her collarbones. The tips of her toes resting under her legs, the curve of her neck ending on her ears. And then he can _feel it_. The edges of her mind nagging into his, like the ocean tide, pulling him in, pulling and pulling… And that’s when he feels more than sees Clarke smile.

_Finally_

He doesn’t know if that was her voice or his own inside his head, but he guesses it doesn’t matter. Lately they both sound the same.


	5. One as Two, Two as One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When pilots Drift together, something happens. Can you imagine? Having someone literally inside your head? Sharing your memories and thoughts, so much that they overlap and complete one another.  
> This is the one thing that scared Bellamy Blake.  
> This is the one thing that Clarke Griffin didn't want to do ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer** : Again, excerpts from this chapter were taken from the Pacific Rim Novelization. Characters and world belong to Jason Rothenberg and Travis Beacham respectively.  
> Also, I take a bunch of things from the Pacific Rim wiki (including the picture about the drivesuit, I literally print screened that), all credits to them.  
> Annnnnd a huge thank you to my dear Sarah ([flying_snowmen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/flying_snowmen/pseuds/flying_snowmen)): thank you so much for taking this shite chapter and beta-ing it to so much better, you are the best!!

 

 

> “The process of Drifting is a type of Mind Meld that requires the pilots to share memories, instinct and emotions. Drifting allows them to act as one and control the very movement of the Jaeger itself, one pilot controlling the “right hemisphere”, the other the “left hemisphere”. Whether two pilots are “Drift Compatible” with one another, depends largely on their personal connection and their ability to work in sync with each other. Drift compatibility is potential that exists between two people; however, it is not predetermined by the relationship (or lack thereof) of the compatible persons. Trust is an implicit part in creating a strong bond between a potential partner. Familiarity with a partner makes fostering trust easier where it may be more difficult between strangers. Without trust, the Neural Handshake cannot succeed.” LIGHTCAP, Caitlin. **The Jaeger Pilot Playbook** , 2016.

 

“Ready to step into my head, buttercup?”

Clarke peered at Bellamy's smirking face from under her covers. “How come you are always so alert in the mornings?”

He shrugs, hands on hips. “You never know what you’re going to wake up to.”

Clarke sits and jumps to the floor, with her usual grace, “Yeah, like kaijus.” She’s wearing her customary pajamas: pale blue shorts and a battered white t-shirt, and somehow, she still looks very respectable dressed like that, wild hair and all.

“Or angry blonde rangers.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “Are you talking about the Beckets?”

He smirks again. “Nah, it’s the female kind that are awful.”

“Gosh.” She takes her uniform. “You are so corny.” Bellamy pouts at her as she steps into the bathroom, and she glances at his long face. “My point exactly.”

When ready, they grab a quick breakfast and go grab their flight. That turns out to be late, the pilot not even there yet.

“Ready?” Octavia shows up at the hangar, smiling. “Sorry I’m late.” Bellamy didn't know she was going to be their pilot that day, and suddenly he’s no longer annoyed by the 15 minutes delay on their departure.

Truth is, the younger Blake made a special request to Marshal Pentecost to be the pilot to get Rangers Griffin and Blake to Kodiak Island, and if he was aware of the Blake’s being brother and sister, he didn’t say anything when she insisted until he finally gave in.

“Ready.” Bellamy smiles, and Clarke stares at the way he looks at his sister. It’s the first time she sees affection tone down his features. She quite likes the sight.

Jordan and Mrs. Griffin join them in the chopper; the NBO's presence Bellamy understands, but why a bureaucrat like Abigail Griffin would tag along is not justified to him. Clarke and her mother talk crisply, and Jordan keeps trying to talk to Bellamy, who has his arms crossed and jaw locked, wishing he could have simply travelled next to his sister.

The trip from Los Angeles to Kodiak is uneventful but excruciatingly long, and both rangers aboard tried to get some sleep. Because as soon as they arrive, they’ll take the simulator that will define their partnership permanently. When they finally land, Octavia smiles at her brother as much as she can muster when he disembarks, not being able to hug or talk normally to her brother in front of Mrs. Griffin or the important NBO guy. But Bellamy looks right into her eyes and feels as ready as he can be.

“Back already, Blake?” Anya, the Jaeger Assault Specialist, smirks at Bellamy as he and Clarke enter the pons training room, after they saluted Academy high-ups and performed all formalities.

 

 

 

> “Named after the Latin word for "bridge", the Pons is a revolutionary connection system that forges two brains into a singular consciousness. The initial design of the Pons was skeletal helmet with circular clamps that fixed it to the head of the user. Pons were later constructed within the interior of the helmets for Drivesuits to work in tandem with the entirety of the Drift process inside the Jaeger.
> 
> When connected through the Drift, pilots are able to "see" what the Jaeger does through the Pons interface; it allows them to pick up telemetry from whatever sensors are in the direction the pilot looks.”   **The Jaeger Pilot Playbook** , 2016.

 

Bellamy nods, trying to look respectful. Failing. “Found myself a pilot.”

Jaha arrives and the Assault Specialist's whole demeanor changes, “Rangers. If you two make it through the drift sync testing, we can then proceed to Jaeger and ranger ready training. Please, go suit up.”

Both rangers take their orders and retreat to the locker room.

Basically, after cadets master officer training there’s the first cut (should they not make the cut, they still can proceed with training to be a member of the PPDC in different areas), and then they move on to Kwoon Combat Room Training. Then to the Drivesuit testing, where they are made familiar with the mechanics of a Drivesuit and unpredictable nature of combat within a Conn-Pod. How quickly they react to a loss of a balance of systems control within the Jaeger sets them apart from the rest of their colleagues.

Then recruits train in the mock-pod simulator and learn how to drift with their partner, they are required to master their minds while a commanding officer of the PPDC observes in preparation for the Jaeger’s two-pilot system. The quicker the trainees are inside the simulation, the better the synchronization is likely to be. A vast majority are cut here.

And then, the few recruits who make the second cut, are allowed to start logging time on the test range in an actual Jaeger.

Something different happened to Bellamy Blake. He never found a partner, and therefore he should be cut out of the program, but he wasn’t. Some called it favoritism. But whose? Anya, the Jaeger Assault Specialist, despised him. The psych analyst didn’t have much to say about him (which could be good), but it was Fightmaster Jaha who saw something in him. And off to Los Angeles he went, graduated, even with a gap in his training. Yes. Jealousy was aimed like laser beams towards Ranger Blake. Stellar performances, best student in all his classes, so far unmatchable, and apparently about to partner with one of the program’s greatest stars. Only now officially concluding his training. What was it about him?

 

-~-

-~-

Can the concept of Drifting make one feel adrift?

Does the mild meld make an individual mindless?

Does the fear in Bellamy’s chest have any justification at all?

“Help me out here” Clarke emerges from the room she was changing in, snapping Bellamy out of his thoughts, and he helps her zip up the circuitry suit. “Sorry.  It's been a while.”

“Noticeable.” She grimaces at him, and his face softens. “Hey, you’ll be alright. I’m here with you.” She nods crisply. “Let’s go armor up.”

He probably needed encouragement as well, but Ranger Blake locked his jaw and soldiered on. A crew came to help them in the armor, and then they entered the mock pons, getting in place; Clarke with the grace of years of experience, Bellamy with the slowness of unfamiliarity.

“Prepare for Neural Handshake.” The display before Rangers Blake and Griffin spawned a holographic representation of two brains, and the thousands of links between them, and the simulated Jaeger motor assemblies. “Starting in four… three…” Jasper Jordan counted down.

At “one,” Bellamy turned his head toward Clarke and shot his eyebrows up.

Then, they exploded into Drift Space.

 

_Bellamy was a kid, with his little sister Octavia, playing soccer, she falls, her knee scrapes_

_Fireworks_

_Mom was braiding Clarke’s hair; it was very important she looked good at the spelling contest. But her mother stopped braiding, and her parents were fighting. They always did this. But Bellamy held her in the air at the kwoon and never dropped her_

_Mom was dead and Bellamy had a job to do. He held Octavia really close at the funeral. He would get more work shifts, he would drop out of college, he had… Clarke smiles like a kid_

_Explosions in the sky_

_Jaeger training was the only logical choice. She was too young, but he was too old. Wait._ Am I the younger one here? Or am I the oldest?

_Seesawing back through time as their minds overlapped and intermingled: training hurts, nothing hurts more than training. They’re gone, they are all gone_

_Finn smiles at me and holds my hand,_ what did he said to you? _He said he was looking for me_

_Please please please don’t leave me alone don’t leave us alone_

_Dad you don’t have to go_

_He and Clarke dance in the kwoon, Bellamy sweats, handsome bastard keep your shirt on_

_No, I’m not going to college; I’m joining the rangers_

_Your sister_

_Your responsibility_

The last rush of time and space and feeling, stray thoughts caught up in the first tempest of the Drift: _fourth of July fireworks soccer I-N-T-E-R-E-S-T-I-N-G cherry lip balm the first time she ever said it stupid hair hey, kid! laughs echo and echo; I can’t stand spiders; what shut up that’s not true I’m nothing like my mom_

_I’ll see you in another life when we are both cats_

_trickles of blood coming from his lips, but it feels good, and it feels real Pick your fights, boy “Clarke, we have to...!”_

_laughs echo and echo and echo_

_Just like together rhymes with forever_

Alaska. 2018. The present asserted itself again. Time to be a pilot.

Reality materialized from the welter of the Drift, and Blake heard Jasper Jordan, like an anchor to the real world.

“Neural handshake strong and holding, congratulations Rangers!” he said as the graphic of two brains converged into one. The links from the overlapped brain image to the simulator’s Jaeger control and motor systems lit up.

Bellamy and Clarke were part of it now, and part of each other.

“Right hemisphere ready,” Clarke said.

“Left hemisphere linked and ready.” Blake took a deep breath, he knew what to say. “Jaeger ready to deploy.”

They each raised one arm, and their Jaeger did the same, confirming the hundred-percent link between the machine and the twinned human minds controlling it.

“Rangers,” Jaha said, “your orders are to destroy the Kaiju before it hits downtown, where most of the population are in hiding.”

“Yes, sir,” Griffin and Blake say.

It’s the strangest, most natural and empowering feeling that Bellamy has ever felt in his entire life. He and Clarke move the Jaeger, completely immersed in the all too real simulation, their movements in perfect sync. He knows what she’s going to do and does it with her before forming a conscious thought about it.

 

 

 

> “In an active neural handshake, the melded subconscious of the Jaeger pilots creates a ‘Headspace’ where two minds communicate. Communication is said to feel literal, abstract, subliminal or conversational, depending on the persons involved. Each crew unconsciously negotiates its own consensus expression. Communication through Headspace is said to be quicker than verbal communication; sophisticated deliberations can often play out in a matter seconds rather than moments.” LIGHTCAP, Caitlin. **The Jaeger Pilot Playbook** , 2016.

 

“Let’s make a clean drop” Clarke says in his head. She explains her entire plan to him, changes it a little as he thinks otherwise, and when they reach the monster, barely any time has passed. The simulator’s kaiju is made to look like Trespasser, the first kaiju that ever came out of The Breach. Their fighting styles blend almost perfectly, their training with Jaha is paying off. They also realize there’s a lot more training left to do. Instincts kick in and Rangers Blake and Griffin go at the monster with everything they got: first they attack its legs, so it won’t go further into the city, then they give the torso some damage, slowing it down. The kill comes by smashing the head, careful to not get much Kaiju blue damage. In ten minutes they have killed it.  The monster took it way worse than the Jaeger, only one leg slightly damaged (Ranger Griffin waited for the the pain of the impact. She and Blake winced, but it wasn't real, so it didn't hurt).

When they triumphantly leave the simulator room, there’s a shift in Bellamy. It’s like his entire body readjusted itself, and he feels bigger and smaller all at the same time. Like his skin is more taut over his muscles than ever. As someone helps him out of his armor, he feels more than two hands touching him. There’s something around them too. In the air? In their aura? It’s like time is moving slowly now, after the rush of the fight.

Back in the locker room, Bellamy stands, not noticing where Griffin is.

“Unzip me again?” She emerges from a stall,  and stands with her back to him.

Bellamy pulls the zipper all way down and swears he can feel a ghostly touch on his own back. It sends shivers down his spine, and he watches in awe as the fine hairs on Clarke's back shoot up. Clarke steps out of the suit in front of him, and maybe Bellamy should have blushed or turned away, but his new skin says it’s okay. He tilts his head to the side, touching Clarke’s shoulder. (She still has goosebumps.) She’s wearing only her underwear and undershirt.

“Circuit burns.” He traces a pale line down her shoulder.

Clarke doesn't move, “More like scars.”

“Do they still hurt?”

“Not really. But my whole left side was never the same.”

“I noticed you protect it when we spar. You overcame it really well.”

She shrugs, “I just had to” She goes to gather the rest of her clothes from her locker, not looking back at him, while Bellamy proceeds to strip out of his own suit, left standing only in his boxers. Before he can reach the locker with his uniform, Clarke has already opened it and thrown his clothes at him. “I recommend you always wear an undershirt under the suit; the chest circuitry sometimes overheats.”

“Thanks.”

Yesterday, Clarke would've looked away and changed herself in closed quarters, ashamed of her damned burns. Yesterday, she wouldn't have tilted her head to the side and poked the scar on Bellamy’s arm, standing right in front of him  “What caused this?” She scratches where the wound used to be, it tickles.

“I fell through a window.”

“Oh!” Recognition dawns on her features. “I remember that!”

Bellamy finishes putting on his shirt and stares as Clarke jumps into her pants, “I was fifteen.”

“And I was nine.”

“You weren't there.”

“I was now” Clarke grimaced at her own words, but continued getting ready.

“How confusing is this going to be?”

“Very." She rubs her nose and sniffs. "You might also get some of Finn’s memories too. We never get rid of these things.”

“A known anomaly after Drifting is called "Ghost-Drifting"; confirmed by the likes of Dr. Caitlin Lightcap herself.”Ghost Drifting" is said to be an "unanticipated consequence" of the Neural Handshake. Pilots are said to find that their link remains somewhat active, though muted, after they've disconnected from the hardware.

 

 

 

> Pilots who Drift with one another long enough begin to adopt certain personality traits of their partner, but their own core personality and consciousness remains intact. They also have an uncanny way of knowing what the other is feeling or thinking without the need to express through words.” BEACHAM, Travis. **The Truth About Jaegers,** 2022

 

They are to spend the night at Kodiak, and then leave back to L.A first thing in the morning. As the formalities go, Rangers Blake and Griffin are given separate quarters. And after a silent dinner in the kitchen, they lie in their separate beds in their separate rooms, each in a on of the fancy bedrooms  usually used by guest specialists. Their silence was the kind of quiet of the scared, too scared to talk. And then as he lies in bed, there's a string in Blake's chest; a chord string, that hums, completely stretched out, painfully taut and pulling.

He gets up, walks down the hall, and stands before a door. Bellamy stands and stares and aches.

"Come on in" Clarke calls, her voice muffled from inside. And he does. But just stands and stares some more.

“Clarke,” Bellamy finally starts. He has his hands buried deep inside his sweatpants’ pockets, to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid.

“Come here,” She gestures, lying in her bed. “And keep your huge mouth shut.”

He obliges, lying by her side on the bed. And once Bellamy stretches himself as far as he can in the small bunk bed, Clarke tangles their legs together.

In all their training, and trust exercises, and gradually built partnership, this is the first time that there’s so much Bellamy around Clarke. They are made of the same dust that once was stars. The air she inhales, he exhales.

“I can…”

“Shush.” She nuzzles into his shoulder. “Don’t ruin it.”

There’s something else in Bellamy's chest now, something big taking up nearly all the space. But he can’t distinguish it, and he doesn't try to. Bellamy wraps an arm around Clarke and closes his eyes. This must be how peace feels.

 

**May 13, 2018**

When Bellamy woke up that morning, he was conked out; but did eventually go back to his quarters. He completely ignored the cadet that stared at him on his walk up the hall. He did ignore her. It wasn't like he was daydreaming about the way that golden hair spilled on a white pillow actually looks like gold. No, not at all.

The flight back was way more pleasant, everyone was beaming. Abigail Griffin was actually quiet (true improvement).  When they arrived back at the Los Angeles Shatterdome, the Rangers went straight to the training room. There was a lot of stretching and sparring to be done, and now that they were training on their own, discipline was of the most importance.

They were more in sync than what seemed humanly possible, and they wouldn't slack or lose that now. They train the entire morning, sparring and testing their limits. And then the slow stretches to cool off. They are sitting on the floor, back to back; Ranger Griffin using her weight to push Blake’s torso towards the floor, his arms stretched before him.

“Will you ever tell me about what happened?” Bellamy looks back to Clarke’s shoulder, towards her pale scars. He had to ask, he needs to hear it from her lips. Clarke flinches at the question.

“Come here,” Clarke sits in lotus position, apparently they’re done stretching, and Bellamy sits in position; his knees touching hers.

“I couldn't trust him anymore, and then…” Bellamy nods. There’s a hurt look in her eyes, and he almost regrets asking. “We were still connected when it happened, you know? I felt his fear, his helplessness… his pain. And then he was gone.”

Bellamy nods and touches his chest, “I felt it. I know.”

“We lived in each other’s minds for so long, the hardest part to deal with was the silence,” It’s like she couldn't stop talking now, like she doesn’t want to. “To let someone in - to really connect - you have to trust them.”

“Our Drift was strong.”

Clarke nods, the tiniest of smiles slightly stretching her lips, “It was.”

“You came through, princess. Now it is time for you to forgive yourself.”

  

 

 

> “There is a shipwreck between your ribs and it took eighteen years for me to understand how to understand your kind of drowning.
> 
> There are people who cannot be held quietly. There are screams that are never externalized. If I looked at the photo albums of your past twenty years, all I would find are decibel meter graphs of phone calls and the intensity of your silence as you sat smoking cigarettes in the garage.
> 
> There is a shipwreck between your ribs. You are a box with fragile written on it, and so many people have not handled you with care.
> 
> And for the first time, I understand that I will never know how to apologize for being one of them.” MOON, Shinji. **What It Took To Understand** , poem.

 

After leaving the training room, the rangers part way, as usual, and Clarke makes her way to the Shatterdome’s auto workshop. There, she quickly spots Raven Reyes working on one of the Humvees. You’d think the head engineer would want to rest during her break.

Raven spots Clarke approaching; she scratches her forehead (leaving a grease stain behind) and smiles, “Hey noodlenose, how was your Drift?”

“Intense” Clarke sighs and throws herself at the armchair by one of the worktables, and grunts with the impact, the cushions are hard and now her left side hurts. “I guess I’m back in the game.”

“That’s good!” Raven turns from her work. “You think you two are ready?”

Clarke stares longingly at one of Reyes’ precise and neat worksheets, “Will you judge me if I want to talk about anything else?”

“Completely not.” Raven cleans her hand in a dirty rag (it makes no difference with the grease). "What do you want to talk about?"

"How was your day? What are you working on?"

“All Jaegers are combat ready. So today we mainly did some repairs on our air fleet. And about these buggers" She bumps the hood of the vehicle. "I was thinking about using upping our Humvees so they are faster and more resistant, for when we need to drive through the city during an event…"

Clarke smiles lazily; mechanics aren't her specialty, but her friend has a way of making things simpler. It’s a quality the blonde wishes she could apply to her life.

 

 

It's night again, and the day was one long haze of information. Clarke's body tingles with the thoughts in her head, and she can feel sleepiness and calm coming from Blake, but she can't do the same.

“Bellamy? Are you awake?”

“Mmhm” He mumbles, rolling onto his back. “What is it?” He rubs his face, and nearly dozes off waiting for a response. “Clarke?”

It takes another long moment for her to respond, “Promise you will bury me?”

“What?” Bellamy’s eyes snap back open. “What are you talking about?”

“Promise you will bury me. Please, just do.”

“Why are you talking like that Clarke? Tell me what it is.”

“I can’t lose anyone else.” She can’t lose him.

“I’ll be by your side; if you go, I go.”

She lays thinking, thinking so intently that it's like shouts echoing through the entire world, all in Bellamy’s head.

“I'll never call you Clarke again,” Bellamy gasps. “I don't want to hurt you. I'll never do anything to hurt you” But she keeps screaming, raging in such silence that Bellamy sits in his bed, desperate to make it stop. Don'tgodon'tleavemedon'tleaveme. He wants to touch her, but he is Bellamy. And there's a third person there, and he doesn't want to be this person. “I’ll never sound like him, I swear.” And there are tears in his eyes that come from Clarke. “ **Together rhymes with forever**.”

Their minds go quiet when Bellamy projects a memory so strong that it blinds them both.

_Nana holds Bellamy's hand, and her fingers are cold and weak, nothing like the ones that used to work needle and thread like magic, "Always remember, darling one; together rhymes with forever."_

It’s not what Clarke wanted, but the silence settles in completely. Hours creep by, and she barely sleeps all night.

As usual, Bellamy wakes up first and is almost ready by the time she leaps out of her bunk. But this time, when she jumps, Bellamy hugs her. But this is different from the day before. They are two individuals again. Clarke is herself in all her pieces. She basks in his hold and sobs once, a dry sob, like a tiny hiccup, and lets him hold her for as long as she needs. When Bellamy lets her go and nods, a tiny crack in Clarke’s heart has mended itself. A tiny one, one of many. But when her co-pilot nods after letting her go, motioning for her to get ready, Clarke knows. She knows that he will be there, a proverbial glue gun in hand, to make amends whenever she breaks.

 

 

 


	6. We Can Be Heroes (Just For One Day)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just for one day,  
> because it lurks.  
> And then, how she feels builds up,  
> but it takes them another month to talk.  
> And at last,  
> this part ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter’s song is Heroes, the version by Kasabian (if rangers Blake and Griffin would have a soundtrack to their lives, I’d like to think it would be completely performed by Kasabian).  
> And also, many thanks to Sarah ([flying_snowmen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/flying_snowmen/pseuds/flying_snowmen)), Rebecca ([ reeveiga](http://archiveofourown.org/users/reeveiga/pseuds/reeveiga)) and Lucas, without the three of you, this story would be super lame.  
> 

**June (just for one day)**

 

 

 

 

> _I_
> 
> _I wish you could swim_
> 
> _Like the dolphins_
> 
> _Like dolphins can swim_

 

An alarm startles Bellamy out of his bunk. He’s been awake for a little while now, reading a nice book. He nearly faints when the alarm sounds. It’s their deployment monitor.

“Clarke!” He gets up and shakes her awake. “We’re being deployed!” Her eyes open wide and she jumps down from her bunk, racing to the flashing monitor.

“How big is it? Where is it? Is it near the shore?” He’s already putting on work pants and rushing to get his boots, and…

“It’s not a kaiju,” Her shoulders sag with relief and she turns to him, a dreamy air in her face.

“What? What is it?” He stops midway through putting on his socks, seated on the floor.

“We have this weekend off,” Clarke gradually starts smiling.

Bellamy gets up slowly, “We do?”

“Yes!” Clarke is full on smiling now.

Bellamy goes to the monitor, and there it is, a cute little notice, just waiting for acceptance, “We can actually leave base?”

“Yes!” She giggles.

“That’s fucking amazing!” Bellamy hugs Clarke, a laugh escaping him, and then holds her by the shoulders. “What you want to do!?”

Clarke stops giggling, but still smiles, “You want to spend your day off with me?”

“Who else would I spend it with?”

Clarke’s mouth opens and closes, frowning. Of course, rationally speaking, crews only take days off one at a time. So his sister would hardly have a day off that same day, and Bellamy wasn’t really amicable with… anyone. But still. “I…” She goes back to smiling with all her teeth. “Have you been to the beach yet?”

“No,” He _tries_ to suppress _his_ smile. “The beach? You sure?”

“So sure.”

“Should we talk to the Marshal?”

“He has no say on what we do on our day off.”

“At least Tendo, though?”

“Yeah, talking to Tendo sounds like a good idea.”

 

 

They find Commander Tendo Choi at the LOCCENT, peacefully eating a bagel and sipping a huge mug of coffee, while reading reports.

“Hey, Mr. Choi!” Clarke bounces onto the desk, sitting next to a fragile looking computer, while Bellamy hovers nearby.

The J-Tech Chief and LOCCENT Officer (SAP: very high ranked) smiles, “Hey nooddlenose, what can I help you with?”

Clarke doesn’t even blink at the somewhat embarrassing nickname. But Bellamy shoots his eyebrows up, unaware that Commander Tendo and Clarke went to the Academy together, “We were given a day off, and we are going to go to the beach.”

“You wanna go to a beach? Here in great L.A?”

“Yes.”

“So on your day off, you are going to a Pan-Pacific beach?” Bellamy nods gravely; Clarke smiles. Tendo rests his bagel and massages his temples, “There could be an attack, Clarke. Need I tell you that a hundreds of feet in height and thousands of tons in weight _monster_ could decide to take a stroll in any Pan-Pacific beach you choose?”

“We will be fine, because you will warn us if there a kaiju coming, won’t you?”

“Yes, but…”

“So we will be safe, we will take a chopper and can be away in a second.”

“You Rangers…” Tendo shakes his head. “I suppose you crazy mofos couldn’t have fun any other way.”

Bellamy shrugs, “Not really.”

Tendo sighs, takes a sip of coffee, “Yeah, I’ll keep a special eye out.”

“Thanks, man.” Bellamy shakes the officer’s hand, a little out-of-place awkwardness in him.

Clarke hops off the desk and starts leaving, “And you get that Shatterdome Radio back online Tendo, we are counting on you!”

 

 

 

 

> "Tendo carries a Rosary with him at all times. Once I asked why he bothered to, and his reasoning for wearing it was: _"In case all else fails"._  Can't say I understood it at the time." BECKET, Raleigh.  **The Great Kaiju Invasion: Memoirs of a Pilot** , 2050.

 

The rest of the day goes with their newly installed routine. They spar by morning, trying new styles and techniques (it’s like cramming for a test that never arrives); sometimes people come in to watch, sometimes the Marshal himself comes to train them. And then the afternoons are spent doing Drifting exercises; they do acroyoga and meditate side by side. They use the simulation Dr. Newton developed for them, taking Drift tests. Some involve being inside the Jaeger, staying in Drift for as long as they can take with Icarus Revenge, and then try and not fall on top of each other during the Hungover.

During the few hours they have for themselves, the rangers go their separate ways; Bellamy goes to hang out with his sister, and Clarke usually goes to Hangar Three or makes her rounds, checking on everyone.

 

On that night, Bellamy’s sister manages to be happy about her brother’s day off, and goes on and on about the procedures to take if there’s an attack (by either Kaiju or shark), what to do if someone drowns, if someone accidentally steps on a stingray, to reapply sunblock every two hours, and so on.

“And finally, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Octavia smiles knowingly, her safety speech finally over.

“And what would that be?” Bellamy scowls. “I know you’re running around with that tall, bald dude.” He eyes his sister up and down. “I’m onto you, little sis.”

“Not to worry, I’m being careful. And so should you.”

“God, I think I have a migraine from picturing it.”

“Bell!” She slaps him.

“You are my little sister, ‘Tavia. You’re supposed to be pure and innocent forever.”

She snorts, “C’mon, get out of my sight, it’s midnight, therefore your day off has officially begun."

“Alright, alright.” He laughs as she pushes him out, “Love you too!”

 

Bellamy takes long strides towards his shared quarters with Clarke. He is surprised she didn't ask to move out as soon as they performed a successful Drift. But he is not about to complain. Bellamy is used to sharing a bedroom with his sister but knows that Octavia wouldn't want to go back to that, just for the sake of his night's sleep. And also, he and Clarke have been doing so many simulators and Ponn tests lately that the thought of going through the Drift Hungover without at least being able to count the seconds between Clarke's breaths as she sleeps terrifies him. They haven't been as touchy-feely as the first time after they Drifted, tip toeing around the urge by sparring and listening to music together and doing tons of acroyoga (where he can have his hands all over Clarke without second thoughts). The Hangover has to be the weirdest, most intense thing he has ever experienced in his life.

Being so fully inside Clarke's head, fighting as this one great warrior together and then just being abruptly withdrawn from the mindspace and thrown into reality, where it is so much harder to perfectly hear her thoughts... His body goes nuts, desperate to dissolve into her.

That's the best word he can think of, _dissolve_ , be as one again . So his instincts respond by wanting to touch, feel, make sure she's still there, hear her voice all the time and nothing else, all the time.

Crazy thing drifting is; strangers can be compatible, but that means nothing, they have to trust each other to be good fighters and that's all. But it’s the proximity that is so hard to avoid, strolling around someone else’s thoughts opens doors and tears down walls. How to deal with that is what differs mediocre pilots from great ones. And Clarke Griffin doesn't do ordinary.

So she voices to him nearly everything he sees in the Drift, as to make sure he knows he's not bribing. They build a trust so strong, so complete, that Bellamy is one thousand percent terrified. He has reassured her to perfection, but didn't allow Griffin to see how much of himself he was too skeptical to show.

He sighs and enters their room.

Clarke is sitting on her bed surrounded by clothes, and packing a backpack, she smiles the brightest of smiles when the door clangs shut behind her co-pilot, “Wick, Raven, Monty and the whole crew have the day off too!”

“We’ll need a bigger chopper.”

 

They get a jumphawk and nearly 40 excited people to the beach with them. The atmosphere is surreal; a few people brought instruments and acoustic music is played during the short flight, and even though alcohol isn’t really allowed, a few technicians seem way too smiley. Clarke is all business in her dress and sandals; she explains to everyone at what time they will be leaving and gives a little safety speech; it’s the only moment everyone remains silent.

The Santa Monica pier is still intact, no kaiju ever came near it. It’s like a small miracle.

The cold sand is mesmerizing to Bellamy and the sun glows eerily in the foggy morning. It’s a gloomy day, the cloudy kind of day so rare in the city. It’s glorious.

Monty races past him, stripping out of his shirt, and enters the ocean, blissfully.

“What you standing like that for, fool?” Raven walks by him in shorts and he can, for the first time, see the braces in her leg (they’re usually hidden by her baggy uniform pants). He remembers the accident from Clarke’s memories: the day the jaeger’s part fell on Reyes, the panic, the fruitless physiotherapy, her anger and frustration, and then at last, the acceptance.

Wick helps her sit down in the towel spread in the sand, and Bellamy shakes his head, getting back to his own memories, his own head. Other people sit, some go straight into the water like Monty, exposing their pale torsos and blazing smiles.

Clarke stops by his side, takes his hand, intertwines their fingers, and pushes him towards the sea, “We have to at least wet our feet.” Bellamy considers performing the expected cliché: to take Clarke in his arms and throw her in the water. But he doesn’t, of course he doesn’t.

The cold water touches the tip of his toes, and a shudder climbs up his spine, “Do we really have to?”

“You came to a beach, you have to get wet.” Clarke yanks at his arm, an unprecedented impish grin on her face. Bellamy stumbles and nearly falls face first into the shallow waters.

“Hey!” She lets go of his hand, walking backwards away from him, the foreign smile still there. “What, you think I’m going to be petty and pull you too?” She doesn’t answer, still slowly putting distance between them. “Am I supposed to run after you?” Clarke chuckles at this, and turns her back on him.

The shy sun makes Clarke’s hair glow, and she twirls on one foot, her smile sunning him all on its own. “Gosh, I needed this,” she turns her face towards the sky, eyes closed, arms wide. “Freedom at last, even if just for one day.”

The day is like a continuous exhale, like all the pressure is out.

The world is not safe, threat still lurks. But today Bellamy takes off his shirt and swims in the same waters he will eventually enter to fight monsters. There’s a bittersweet quality to it: nothing could be more right than have fun first in the place likely to become his battlefield. The waters he swims now could spit out a monster at any second.

Just for one day, they managed to not think about that.

  

* * *

   

**July (because it lurks)**

  

 

 

 

 

> _I_
> 
> _I will be king_
> 
> _And you_
> 
> _You will be queen_

 

 _“_ You two will take Icarus Revenge out for a walk today.” Commander Choi calls their attention, as Rangers Blake and Griffin exit the Conn-Pod after another settling test. “You need the training and we'll make a spectacle out of it,” He sighs, looking at the white and orange mecha. “It's a beautiful machine you got there."

“What do you mean?”  Clarke crosses her arms, standing next to her co-pilot. “What will we do?”

“Just walk around with him?” Bellamy’s posture mirrors Clarke’s, and he eyes Tendo Choi suspiciously.

"Pretty much,” Tendo shrugs. “Maybe jog a little, do some jumps, throw some punches..."

“Just show of? Where?” _That’s ridiculous,_ adds Bellamy in his head.

“By the miracle mile, close enough so people will see.”

Clarke actually rolls her eyes at this, “And that’s our order?”

“Yes, it came from high up the chain.” Clarke snapped her mouth close. “Oh, and Blake, your little sister will be running point for you, I thought you’d like that.”

Bellamy nods, and is still considering whether he should apologize or not, when Clarke is ready to protest again.

“You are aware that whenever we take a step with that Jaeger, we disturb a very delicate ecosystem, right?” Clarke’s voice raises to exactly two octaves higher than the usual. “We can't just go stomping around!”

“Yes, I am aware of that, Clarke.” Tendo sighs. “But orders are orders, there’s nothing I can do.”

  

 

“This is absolutely revolting.” Ranger Griffin straps her boots on. “They are commanding us to simply take Icarus out for a walk as if doing so is no big deal.”

“Hey, breathe, okay?” Bellamy sighs. “You’ve been rambling non-stop since we talked to Tendo. I’m angry too, yeah?” He smirks. “C’mon, you’re leaving me no room to rant.”

“You are being the cool-headed one here? How so? You are nothing like the boy I see in the Drift.”

“That boy grew up and owned his responsibilities. Anger wasn’t taking me anywhere.” Bellamy stands before his partner, ready to go, and offers her his hand. “And you can’t carry that anger into the Drift.”

She takes his hand and gets up, “I won’t.”

“Clarke.” Bellamy raises his eyebrows, holding Clarke’s hand tight.

“I really won’t.” She fidgets under his glare and lets go of his hand as they leave the locker room.

She did though.

  

 

“Prepare for Neural Handshake.” The display before Rangers Blake and Griffin sparkle to life, showing the holographic representation of their brains, and the thousands of links between them, and Icarus Revenge’s motor assemblies. “Starting in four… three…” Tendo Choi counted down.

“Ready to go?” Bellamy turns his head and flashes Clarke a smile.

Then, they exploded into Drift Space.

The experience is never the same. This time, they are thirteen. Scraped knuckles, messy hair and thirsty hearts. This time they also connect way faster, this time it feels like that they know almost everything there is to know about each other. Almost there.

 

 

Reality came to light from the haze of the Drift, Clarke gulps with the sharp colors of the Conn-Pod and looks left, saying the words he knew she would: “Are you kidding me? I was born ready.”

“That’s the spirit!”

Whether Ranger Griffin was worried about ecosystems or not, it was impossible to not get amped about being inside a Jaeger. Two Jumphawks circled them as they made their walk towards the shore.

“Just to make sure, there are no boats sailing on this side of the coast this morning right?” Ranger Blake asked, as they came to a halt. A long static responded. “Loccent?”

“There shouldn’t be, we put out a  notice yesterday.” Came Jordan’s response. Blake and Griffin shared a look. “You two ready to put on a show?”

 

 

There was something red in the corner of Blake’s eye. It was a little hard to notice it as they ran, and even did a little pirouette (causing turmoil in the water), plus the memorable moment when he sneezed and the whole Jaeger mimicked his movements. But the red was there. Ranger Blake didn’t realize it was coming from Griffin until it was too late.

“Why are there jumphawks soaring?” He asks, and upon closer look, his eyes widen. “Shit, there’s a boat out here, it looks like the rippling is nearly capsizing it.”

Then the red takes over and Rangers Griffin and Blake violently fall out of sync.

_Bellamy is still in his suit, but standing in a sitting room, all he can see is Clarke, younger, longer hair, barefoot and in pijamas. She’s screaming at someone._

_“It wasn’t about me!”_

_He can’t really see the person, but they scream back just as hard, “It was about all of us Clarke! I did what I had to do!”_

_“No, you did not! You killed him! Because you were **angry** , he is dead because of **you**!”_

_“It was his own fault!”_

_“Don’t you dare! You can’t do things and not think about the consequences, the repercussions. You what? You thought I would be okay when I figured out you’d been lying!? Letting me blame someone else!?”_

Clarke is chasing the RABIT. Allowing her anger to take over.

 _“Clarke, listen to me. This isn’t real, you have to end this”,_ but Clarke keeps on shouting to whoever’s across the room. She doesn’t see him, doesn’t hear him.

Icarus Revenge mimics Clarke’s actions, it flails its arms and paces. The flimsy boat rocks and rocks, the jumphawk soars above it, ready for rescue if it comes to it.

In the Drift, Bellamy continues trying to bring Clarke back, _“Listen to me, you can’t chase the RABIT, c’mon Clarke, snap out of it!”_

Clarke pulled him into the Drift, so he doesn’t see when the boat finally capsizes, doesn’t see two people jump out of the Jumphawk, into the water.

 

 

 

 

> “During the Drift, pilots will lapse into silence and attempt to keep their mind clear of all thoughts. Random Access Brain Impulse Triggers (or R.A.B.I.T.) is an occurrence wherein one of the pilots latches onto a memory. Focusing on a single memory is discouraged while piloting a Jaeger. The emotions from the memory typically translate into actions for the Jaeger depending on the hemisphere the pilot is calibrated to. A pilot can become trapped in a memory they latch onto regardless of who the memory belongs to. As a result first time pilots and pilots in general are advised never to ‘chase the rabbit’.” LIGHTCAP, Caitlin. **The Jaeger Pilot Playbook** , 2016.

 

 “I could kill you right now,” Bellamy grunts.

Clarke rolls her eyes, “He could not.”

They are at the infirmary, Bellamy has his arms crossed and Clarke stands one step too close to him as they stand by his sister’s bedside.

Octavia chuckles, but winces, holding her stomach, “Oh, what an embarrassing way to be officially introduced to you, Ranger Griffin.”

Clarke tilts her head (both out of worry for the younger girl’s pain and out of confusion), “Why didn’t we meet before?” (She’s also avoiding the fact that Octavia nearly drowning was truly her fault. She let anger take over; she chased a memory.)

“Bell doesn’t like to share.”

Bellamy grunts again, “You are so stupid, Octavia. Why did you do it? Explain to me how jumping off a chopper you’re co-piloting is a good idea.”

“Someone had to. Plus, Indra had complete control of the jumphawk and Fox was drowning.”

“What type of moron _falls out of a chopper_?”

“She didn’t _just fall_ we were performing a _rescue mission_ to a boat that was having…”

“Yeah, but that’s not even our jurisdiction!”

“Oh Bellamy, stop it.” ( _It was my fault_ , is what Clarke wants to say.) “Your sister is okay, and Doctors Nyko and Jackson are very capable physicians…”

“She could have broken her neck!” Bellamy interrupts. “She took a fucking swan dive, head first, suicide jump, she…”

“Stoooop!” Octavia groans. “Seriously, I’m okay,” She sits on the bed, kicks the covers away, doesn’t even grimace this time. “See?”

Clarke frowns, her lips a thin line. This is not okay, she lost control during a drop. There were people on the shores, cheering, feeling safe. Whilst she reminisced the day she found out her mother had some responsibility in her father’s death. Not. Okay. Octavia is smiling while Bellamy still whines, but she can’t hear them anymore, “Excuse me.”

Her co-pilot and his sister are too engrossed in their little argument to notice how troubled Clarke looks as she leaves.

   

* * *

  

**August (and then, how she feels builds up)**

 

 

 

 

> _Though nothing_
> 
> _Will keep us together_

 

“How long will we be here doing nothing?”

Clarke eyes him from under her book, turns a page slowly before answering, “We are on stand.”

Bellamy is pacing on the small patch of floor between their bunk beds and the bathroom door, “Trapped inside, doing nothing.”

“We had a leave just last month.”

Pacing like a panther insider a cage, Bellamy growls, “This is not about being outside, this is about the fact that we do nothing! We had a lot of hurry up to get where we are, and now they are not using us!”

Clarke closes her book, exasperated, “Bellamy, we are _lucky_ to not have to fight.”

“ _Not have to fight?”_ He comes to a halt by her side.“Clarke, the world is collapsing out there, there is plenty else we can do to help!”

“We are standing watch, Bellamy.” She hisses through her teeth. “We are not to leave.”

“The Gage twins leave!”

“Because they are not the ones on watch! For Christ’s sake, Bellamy, why do you always have to behave like a child!?”

Beat.

" _Me_? I'm the child?"

“Yes you are! And I can’t join you on that!”

“I’m not asking you to join me on anything! I’m asking you to please, _please_ , get us something to do.”

“Why are you asking _me?_ Ask Tendo, ask the Marshall!”

“You’re the one that rules this place.”

“No, I’m not! I absolutely do not have any control over anything!” She stands, shouting at his face. “There’s nothing else I can do! I do not know how to do anything else, okay!? And I am _scared_ , how can you _not be scared!?_ You are like a kid, who never saw how awful the things out there are!” There’s tears welling up in her eyes, and her skin is so translucent right now, that Bellamy sees, or _feels_ , her racing heart, her tornado of apprehension.

He tentatively reaches for her, grazes her elbow, “Clarke…”

“Don’t,” Tears fall from her eyes, and Bellamy touches his own cheek, thinking they’ll be there. His hand comes out dry. “I hate you right now”, Clarke whispers, grabs his shirt with shaking fingers. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you...”

“You’ll be okay, we got this…” Bellamy hugs her, her muttering going from nearly inaudible, to nothing. And she cries all she’s been holding. Bellamy cries too, not only for her sake, but at the expense of his own fears.

  

* * *

  

**September (But it takes them another month to talk)**

 

 

 

 

> _I_
> 
> _I can remember_
> 
> _Standing_
> 
> _By the wall_
> 
> _And the guns_
> 
> _Shot above our heads_

 

“Where were you on K-Day?” Clarke asks gingerly.

They are stretched on the floor outside, after running around the Dome. The sun is warm on their faces, “New York, we lived in Brooklyn. You?”

“We were home, in San Diego.”

“You were way closer than me, how scary was it?”

“We could see the smoke from far away. Dad was in one of the planes dropping fire bombs into the thing, mom stayed home with me.” She stretches some more, ponders some more. “I don’t think she ever forgave us for it.”

“Forgive you and your dad?” Bellamy pushes her back, helping with the stretching.

She finishes breathing before answering, “Yes. Me for being the reason she had to stay. And dad for being the one to go fight and make her be the one left behind.”

They switch positions, with Clarke using her weight against his back, so he’ll touch his toes,“Yamarashi.”

“What?” Bellamy asks, panting. Clarke takes her weight off him, and sits with her back against his.

“Yamarashi was the kaiju that killed Finn.” A moment, and their breaths sync. “We were deployed against it, the largest category 3 to ever emerge. And they sent us against it on our own. It was at the Long Beach Waterfront, it destroyed a cruiser right before our eyes, we couldn’t stop it, but we tried. Oh, we tried. The Marshal told us to retreat and wait for backup, but the thing was walking towards the shore, and so we stood in its way. It tore at us so fast, it ripped out my arm and took Finn away.”

“Clarke, you don’t have to, I…”

“I don’t remember much,” She interrupts him, shaking her head. “I remember making my way back to shore, on my own. Yamarashi destroyed the Queenway Bridge, completely. And it was cutting a path through Terminal Island when the Becket’s finally arrived. I don’t know what would’ve happened if Gipsy hadn’t killed it. I couldn’t fight anymore. It broke me, that thing. It killed me. And I thought I was never going to live again.”

“It didn’t break you; it couldn’t kill you.”

Bellamy feels her turn, and now they are facing each other, “That’s it, you know everything now.”

“Ok, my turn.”  But he can’t look her in the eye. “I’m scared.” He dares a glance, but Clarke’s eyes are too clear, too truthful. So he looks away again. “No. I’m terrified.”

He looks again, and there’s pain in her eyes. Pain for him? Pain _he_ causes? And Bellamy can’t look away, now he can never look away,“I thought...” Clarke trails off, blue glass eyes, then a whisper of a question: “What are you afraid of?”

“You. Us. Monsters. My sister flying around. Of proximity, of trust...”

(Of love.)

“You have been holding back, I know you have. What can you not tell me?”

Bellamy shakes his head, “I’m used to just relying on me, to be the one carrying the weight. Why should I ask you to share it with me? What are the boundaries to this?” He gestures between them. “Where does professionalism end and… And where do **we** begin?”

  

* * *

  

**October (and at last)**

 

 

 

 

> _Nothing will drive them away_

 

Bellamy heard the alarm and snapped into complete alert, swinging out of the bottom bunk and talking before his feet touched the ground.

“Clarke, get up! Movement in the Breach!” He got his shirt on. Clarke didn’t move. “Let’s go, Buttercup!” Bellamy pushed the feet hanging from under the comforter. “We’re being deployed!”

That got Ranger Griffin’s blue eyes to snap open. She swung out of her bunk and fell to the ground into a crouch in one fluid movement. Her hair was a mess of blonde waves as she rushed to the deployment monitor, “It’s a Category IIl.” She muttered eyeing the data. “Codename: Prótos.”

Bellamy stopped midway through lacing his boots, “That’s first in Greek.”

Clarke turns around, staring intensely into his eyes, “They named it for us. Our first kill.”

“Get ready.” Bellamy was already at the door, checking the first batch of  information on the kaiju as it streamed out of LOCCENT Command.

Three minutes later they were in the suiting area.

 

 

Ranger Griffin’s breathing is irregular. Someone bangs at the door.

“WE NEED A SECOND!”

Ranger Blake steps out of his cubicle, “We don’t have  one.”

“Shut up and get over here.” He does so quickly, and Clarke takes another step closer, invading his personal space, “We can do this.”

Bellamy touches his forehead to hers, “We can.”

They’ve come full circle, it seems. All the trust exercises of _don’t touch,_ and _now only touch here._ And now this: their foreheads pressed together. Like a link between all they are. Bellamy slides his face, so his cheek is squeezed against hers.

The second is over.

 

“What were you _doing_?” Jaspers squeaks when the Rangers finally come out, but doesn’t say anything else when he sees their steel expressions.

Griffin and Blake are ready.

 

 

 

 

“Data on helmet. Data Relay Gel dispersing in circuity suit.”

 

 

 

 

Icarus was the one who flew too close to the sun. The greedy boy who got blinded by the light and freedom. He was the one who drowned when he thought himself safe. Icarus’ revenge is to take back the world that should’ve been his.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> _We can be heroes, just for one day_

 

 

 

 

“In peace, may you leave the shore. In love, may you find the next. Safe passage on your travels until our final journey. May we meet again.”

Clarke's whisper of thought grazes at Bellamy. And then they fall into the cockpit.

 

 

 

 

 

Clarke Griffin and Bellamy Blake stand before Prótos, their breath the same, their minds as one, and Bellamy lets all his constrictions go, because right now, he can’t hold anything back. And that’s when Clarke _feels_ it, she would have staggered at the intensity had her feet not been stuck in place.

_IloveyouClarke_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**(this part ends)**

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo there, dearest readers  
> Fist, I’m sorry how long it took me to write this. I was too busy and too emotionally attached to this story.  
> If you have been with me since the beginning, thank you for sticking around. If you just read this all in one go, thank you for giving this your time. Extra thank you to everyone who left comments and kudos, those make everything worth it. Just, just thank you to anyone who ever existed, just for doing their thing. I’m inspired now and feeling pretty good about myself for finishing to write something longer than a short-story for the first time in my life.  
> I _could_ write more of these two, but I felt that I had to stop here?  
>  Icarus Lives’ original idea was to merely describe Rangers Blake and Griffin becoming a team and becoming an unified front. So now I’ve done that. But I suppose if anyone would care to know a little into their future, I could post an epilogue? Throw the ideas I have left into a wall and see what sticks? Yeah. Tell me if you’d like that.  
> P.s.: The parenthesis next to the months, if read together, form the little thingy that I used as summary.


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there, I’m back!  
> Since some people asked me to post an epilogue, here it is. It’s very short, but confirms whether or not they survived their first Kaiju and makes the future of their relationship pretty clear.  
> Also, the song in this epilogue is by Kasabian, I suggest you listen to it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dXRuAyL841M).
> 
> Ps.: I said I would post this next Monday, but who says my override mind could wait?? Oh, welll... Here it goes.

_I will follow you now, wherever you go_

 

“Help me unzip?” Clarke stands in front of Bellamy, her back turned toward him.

They came out of Icarus to the entirety of the Shatterdome workers clapping and shouting, congratulating them on their first kill. One of their team with paint in hand to mark Icarus's chest plate with a little Kaiju head. Ranger Griffin shook her head vigorously whilst receiving back pats and even hugs, they weren't going to count. They were fighters, and that was that. Bellamy marveled at the feeling of belonging, so much it hurt his cheeks to smile that big. Clarke shook the attention off, took Bellamy's hand and headed to the locker room; the party could wait. And even though Bellamy wanted to enjoy the thrill a little more, he followed his co-pilot promptly.

But now it was just the two of them, shuddering, goosebumps all over, as Bellamy zipped Clarke's skin suit down. She strips out of it and then goes to unzip Bellamy too, without asking if he needs help.

Their bodies ache and sag as the adrenaline starts fading.

Bellamy peels off his suit and stands before Clarke only in his boxers.

“I thought I told you to wear an undershirt.” She touches his chest, which is red and irritated.

“Forgot in the rush.”

 

_I'll be with you now, stick around forever_

 

Clarke’s hand lingers as she traces the red lines of irritated skin, the touch of her fingertips a mix of sparks and small torture. “Did you mean it?” She finally asks.

“You know I did,” Bellamy rests his hand on top of hers. “You've been in my head.”

She sighs, squirms at his touch, “So you know too.”

“Yeah, I do. Clarke, listen…”

She removes her hand, steps, and turns away, crossing her arms atop her chest. “You don’t have to say it. I know.”

 

_When will you realize that I ain't that tough?_

 

“No, I need to say. So here's me saying it.” Bellamy stands in front on her again. “I'm not going anywhere. I'll wait as long as you need me to.” She nods, avoiding looking into his eyes. “Come here,” Bellamy pulls her towards his arms. And it's like he's still inside her head. It’s like he can still see through her eyes, and right there there's so much thankfulness in his chest, that it oozes thick sweet.

 

_Save what you got, keep it safe, don't ever stop_

 

They feel powerful and invincible, and that's scary. That's scary because they know it is a lie. Its scary because they belong to each other now. They belong to each other so fully and completely that behind everything, there's bliss. All they are, clawed into each other so deeply, it feels like pulling away could kill.

 

_There's nothing more, it's nothing less_

 

Bellamy holds Clarke in his arms and their knowing of minds is so intense that his heart swells even more, and he hears Clarke's _IknowIknowIknowdon'tgodon'tgodon'tgo_ and he answers _I'mhere_.

Clarke raises her face and their foreheads touch, and he sees himself in her glass eyes. Another full circle. Bellamy doesn't know when they started taking such deep breaths, breathing in and out slowly, as in meditation. Eyes wide open, their lips hover, touch light as feather. They shiver in each other's arms and it's like looking right at the sun. Like having their nerve center astir. They part.

Bellamy's smile is so big that his eyes squeeze.

He heard Clarke say it. Said without a sound, but clear as day:

_Iloveyoutoo_

 

_It's all we got, it's happiness, it's happiness_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I'm done!!!!!  
> 


End file.
